


Deliverance

by Snoweylily



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, BAMF James, BAMF Laura, BAMF Robbie, Blood and Gore, Dark, Episode: s02e03 Life Born of Fire, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt James, Hurt/Comfort, Laura is a good bro, Life Born of Fire, M/M, Major Character Injury, PTSD James, Post-Episode: s02e03 Life Born of Fire, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Temporary Blindness, Torture, Whump!James, Zoe Kenneth - Freeform, car crash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 15:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 27,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12962457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoweylily/pseuds/Snoweylily
Summary: A wrecked car, a mangled body, and a crime that just isn't quite adding up. When Lewis suspects the impossible, it'll take all his courage and wits to track down the culprit and punish them for what they've done. He doesn't think about the consequences, they'll get through that part together. Only, right now? It'd be so much easier if James was here...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Deliverance** is my 27th published fanfic, and my first in the 'Lewis' fandom!
> 
> It's set entirely in the **Third Person's Point of View** , and will eventually become **James Hathaway/Robert Lewis** , though warning in advance, it's a **slow build**! The first 13 (I think!) chapters are **pretty violent and rather dark** and **involves many delightful torture scenes**!
> 
> And now... I think that's pretty much all the warnings I can give without spoiling the plot!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and **please leave reviews! (I reply!)**
> 
>  
> 
> Rachel :D
> 
> * * *

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=ixttfs)

**Chapter 1**

A black Jaguar sped through the narrow Oxford streets, buildings blurring past on both sides, cars blowing horns and people shouting in alarm and leaping to the side to avoid it. Sirens blared loudly from the vehicle, the tell-tale red and blue lights flashing in warning. The driver, a man in his mid-thirties, stared ahead of him, face set in a grim, serious expression as the car spun with a screech of rubber tires on tarmac pavement, leaping from St Aldates onto Speedwell Street, a two-lane narrow street that took all his attention to keep the car steady on.

He had gotten the call only half an hour ago, and he ran his hand through blonde hair in worry.

_He was going to be late._

Quickly gripping the wheel as the car shuddered slightly, he yanked it to the left and maneuvered a sharp U-turn onto the A420, ignoring the blaring of horns from all sides.

_He didn't have much time._

Blue eyes studied the road in front of him, dark shadows thrown across the car, broken only by the occasional streetlight placed every few meters.

_He was almost there._

Arriving at the next junction, he slammed the pedal to the floor of the car to narrowly avoid an oncoming truck, urging the car to _come on push on hurry up faster faster faster!_

* * *

He took the bend too fast.

* * *

Car serving, he jerked the wheel sharply, trying to regain control of the car as they approached Folly Bridge.

_Folly_.

How ironic.

* * *

The Jaguar skidded to the side, brakes locking and steering lost, and for one short frozen moment, the blonde in the front watched the barrier approach in silent horror, before the front of the car caught on the pavement and lurched. The back of the car was flung forwards and flipped in mid-air, the driver losing consciousness the second his head hit the windscreen, tossed about inside the vehicle like a ragdoll. The Jaguar smashed through the weak barrier with a painful screech of metal on metal, its own momentum throwing it over the bridge's railing and sending it spiralling into the dark murky waters of the Thames below.

There was a monumental _splash_ , the creaking of a broken barrier, and then-

_Silence._

* * *

Gurdip sighed as the dark-coloured car was finally towed from the river, smashed windscreen, ripped tires, mangled doors and all.

He glanced down at his watch.

10pm.

Drunk driver?

Shaking his head, he looked back up as the tow-truck began beeping loudly as it backed up, dragging the unrecognisable car with it. The firefighters on scene immediately began rushing over and yelling- _"There's someone still in there!"_

A welder, sparks, and many minutes later, they managed to take off the driver's door, and a distorted body fell out.

Gurdip's expression twisted to one of disgust at the sight of twisted legs and bloody arms.

* * *

Poor sod wasn't even wearing a seatbelt.

* * *

As they carefully removed the body from the crash site, something black and thick, like a wallet, fell from his pocket. Reaching down, the firefighter picked it up with a frown, flipping it open to reveal a gold badge inside.

He swallowed thickly, before turning his gaze to the officer standing at the edge of the crime scene. The man met his gaze evenly, before frowning, and taking a step forwards.

He waved him closer.

"Something wrong?" the Detective asked, and the fireman slowly held out the black leather, "... I'm sorry".

Gurdip cautiously took the wallet, knowing that look on the other man's face, knowing that feeling of cool dread settling in his stomach, _knowing that badge number_.

He stared at the familiar five-digit number for a solid minute, not wanting to realise what they mean, no wanting to admit that this is from his precinct, not wanting to know _who they've just lost_ to something as _stupid_ as _reckless driving_.

* * *

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before turning the badge and flipping open the ID card.

An even more familiar face stared right back at him.

His gaze snapped back to the destroyed car still pouring out water, and amongst the wreck he was able to make out the registration number.

OV25 ZMO.

_Christ_.

* * *

Gurdip was faintly aware of the badge falling from his hands, and his knees buckled at the same time he laid eyes on the corpse, mangled beyond all recognition, lying on the cold ground a few meters from the crash site.

Pale skin, blonde hair, lithe build.

Oh _Christ_.

* * *

He just about managed to jerk himself to the side before his stomach lurched and he vomited up coffee and a half-digested bagel.

It couldn't be- It _can't_ be- be-

He felt a warm hand rest on his shoulder, and suddenly there was a worried face kneeling in front of him, saying something.

"-ergeant! Sir! Sir, are you alright?!"

He reached up and wiped a shaking hand across his mouth as he jerkily nodded.

"Here, let me help you get up".

A second hand joined the first, this one on his opposite shoulder, as the firefighter who'd handed him the badge to begin with dragged him to his feet.

* * *

Once somewhat steady, the man let go.

"Sir, do you need an ambulance?"

He shook his head, not trusting his voice right now as his traitorous gaze drifted back to the body lying still only five meters away-

"Sir!"

The fireman stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the dead blonde, and he hoped to god that the dark night hid his glistening eyes from view.

"Can I help you with anything?"

Gurdip shook his head once more, "I... I k-know him. I need to- to- I need to make a c-call".

He nodded reassuringly, and gently pushed the officer in the opposite direction of- of-

* * *

He needed to ring Innocent.

* * *

On the cold ground below, going unnoticed by both men, nestled in the wet grass and cool with the falling dew, lay the black and gold badge, still open and facing the stars above, the ID faintly visible only by the light of the moon. A photo of the car's owner was printed on one side, fair hair and a half-frown marring his handsome features, and the man's details were printed on the other. And there, directly across from those serious blue eyes, was the police officer's name, printed in thick block letters.

* * *

James Hathaway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **What do you guys think so far?**
> 
> _Any suggestions?_
> 
> Rachel :)
> 
> * * *

**Chapter 2**

*BEEP-BEEP* *BEEP-BEEP* *BEEP-

Lewis groaned and blindly slapped his bedside table to find the source of the infernal ringing.

Grabbing his phone, he squinted at the caller ID, _Innocent_ , and at the time, _10:31pm_ , before reluctantly hitting 'Accept Call' and holding it up to his ear.

"Hello?"

" _Robbie!_ Thank god-"

He jerks up, all tiredness gone and immediately on guard.

"Ma'am?!"

"Robbie, listen, there's been... there's been an accident. We need you to come down".

He frowned, worried, "An accident? What do you mean by 'an accident', ma'am? Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine! It's- It's James, Robbie. I just... I just need you to get down to the station, okay?"

There's been an accident.

It's James.

We need you to come in.

* * *

And he _knows_.

He knows by the way she calls him by his _first_ name, by her _soft_ tone, by the _strain_ in her voice, that _it's something bad_.

He just didn't think it'd be _this_ bad.

* * *

He stared at the body in silent shock.

* * *

After Lewis had half-driven, half- swerved like a lunatic to the station, he had been met with sad eyes and pitying looks from all sides. He ignored them, pushing down the icy claws that gripped his heart and settled in his stomach like a cylinder block. It was just an _accident_ , that didn't mean _anything_. Many people had accidents every day and didn't get injured too badly. He was fine, _James_ was _fine_ , everything was-

"Inspector".

He quickly stepped forwards as Innocent opened the door to her office, and he was _fucking terrified_ when he saw the red rings surrounding her eyes.

"Please, come in" She whispered, retreating into her room.

He silently shut the door behind him, and she took a deep breath before turning around to face him once more.

"Robbie... I'm sorry" She said, "I'm so, _so_ , sorry".

He was vaguely aware of slowly collapsing into the chair in front of her desk, his ears ringing and his head spinning, and he can't believe her, _of course_ he can't, not when only _six_ _hours_ _ago_ he had closed a case with his awkward lad and had a pint to celebrate, not when only _five hours ago_ they had talked and joked and he'd even gotten a genuine grin out of the boy, and not when only _four hours ago_ he had dropped him off at his apartment and told him he'd see him Monday morning.

* * *

 _Not when he'd left James Hathaway very much alive_.

* * *

And that's what led him to now.

In the morgue.

Innocent and Laura standing across from him.

And the _body_ of his _best friend_ lying on the _cold slab_ between them.

Lewis stared at the corpse in silent shock, his face bloodied and bruised beyond all recognition, but he had fair hair and was of a similar build and had been found in _his_ car.

It was James.

It _couldn't_ be James.

Not his awkward sod.

He felt numb, his mind strangely blank, and his hands were shaking.

A warm hand was place on his shoulder, "Robbie..."

He slowly turned and Laura's teary eyes met his own evenly, "I'm sorry... He was pronounced dead on scene, there was nothing anyone could do".

His graze drifted back to the broken limbs and deep gashes, taking in every tiny detail as it lowered to his neck, his collar bones, his shoulder-

Lewis blinked.

His shoulder.

His very _bare_ shoulder.

* * *

He frowned and took a step closer, hands reaching out before stopping, unsure.

"Robbie?"

It couldn't be...

"Inspector?"

He studied the unblemished skin.

"... It's not him".

His voice was hoarse, rough.

"What?" Innocent asked quietly.

"It's not him" He repeated.

They stared at him.

"It's _not_ him!" He continued, feeling almost light-headed, "Don't you _see?!_ It's not _James!_ It's _not_ him!"

Laura got a pinched expression on her face, "Robbie..."

"No. I'm _serious_ Laur-"

"As am I!" She snapped, "They pulled him out of _his_ car, got _his_ badge out of _his_ jacket pocket, and it looks _exactly_ like him!"

"You can't make out his face. No, it's not-"

"God _dammit_ , Lewis, I've examined the body!" She stopped and took a deep breath, "I've examined _James'_ body... Look, I know this is a- a- a _shock_ , and it's painful, _fuck_ it's _painful_ , but don't _do_ this to yourself".

Lewis shook his head at her, "For _christ's_ sake woman, I'm _not_ in denial! _It's. Not. James!_ "

* * *

Silence.

* * *

"... How do you know?" Innocent asked quietly.

He spun back around and pointed at his shoulder, "Because he's missing one _very_ obvious scar".

Laura was the first to notice.

"... The bullet wound".

Her voice was awed, almost hopeful.

Lewis nodded, "Exactly".

"What? What bullet wound?" Jean asked, confused.

"The Crévecoeur case" He explained, somewhat dizzy with relief, "With Mortmaige, ma'am. Hathaway drew his fire, saving my life, but got shot in the shoulder in the process. And it left one _hell_ of a mark... And this- this- this _body_ doesn't have one".

She frowned, "Is it possible that it faded over time?"

"No" Laura replied firmly, "Not one of that close a range, not a through-and-through. He's lucky he didn't sustain any muscle trauma from that shot, let alone got cleared for duty again... There's no way it didn't scar".

"I've _seen_ the scar" He finished, "You couldn't miss it".

They all simultaneously turned back to the body.

* * *

"... Alcohol intake" Robbie said suddenly, "What was it?"

Dr. Hobson frowned but picked up the chart from her desk anyway, "It was... high. Very high. More than enough to be over the driving limit, that's for sure".

"We went to the pub, after the case" He explained, "He had a few pints, enough to make him tipsy, but not full-out drunk. I drove him home straight after".

She picked up a pen and began scribbling down notes, "How long ago was that?"

"A few hours ago?" He guessed, "Five, six, six and a half?"

"What are you trying to prove, Inspector?" Innocent asked, once again lost in the conversation, "That Hathaway _was_ over the limit?"

"He would have been. But not by now".

"Are you sure?"

"He's the fittest bloke in the precinct!"

Laura raised a single eyebrow at him, and he scowled, "Oh, you know what I mean! James is active, he exercises a lot, he could've been recruited for the rowing Olympics, for christ's sake!"

Innocent glanced down at the body, "So his body should have processed the alcohol by now?"

"And it would have" Hobson finished, " _If_ it were James. Based on his height and weight, he should've have a blood alcohol content of less than 0.04, well under the legal limit. This guy, however? He's hitting a high 0.16 BAC".

Their Superintendent slowly nodded, "And... And you're sure he wouldn't have had another when you left? This _is_ Hathaway we're talking about".

"Meaning?"

She glared, " _Meaning_ that you know as well as I do, _Inspector_ , that Hathaway isn't entirely right in the head. It's one of the reasons he makes such a great detective".

"Because he's thinks different?" He snapped.

"Because he's an _over thinker_ , as well as a _highly_ intelligent man" She shot back, "But that's not the point here. The point, inspector, is that this man is _not_ James Hathaway... So just who the hell is he?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you SO FREAKING MUCH_ for all of those who have favourite, followed, and especially, reviewed!
> 
> **I update faster with reviews *hint-nudge-wink***
> 
> Rachel :D
> 
> * * *

**Chapter 3**

He came to with a thudding headache, eyes closed against the dull pain. The back of his skull throbbed and he bit out a curse before moving his hands to inspect the damage.

They didn't move.

Instead, he felt ropes bounding his arms to the wooden chair he was sitting on. Any movement at all pulled them even tighter and he winced as they cut into his skin, sawing deep and drawing blood.

What the hell had happened to him?

The last thing he remembered was going home, locking his door, and getting ready for bed. He had barely sat down before there had been a blow to the back of his head. He had immediately jumped forwards, dizzy with blurred vision, and tried to fight back. He had managed to land only one punch before he was hit once more, this one landing on his temple and spinning him around. He had collapsed against something, his dresser? beside locker, maybe? before one more blow had sent him spiraling into unconsciousness.

How long had he been out cold? His lips were parched and hunger growled in his stomach. He cracked open his eyes to find out where he was, but blackness continued to engulf him. Something was covering his eyes. A tremor of panic resounded in his chest. He was blind, motionless, restrained.

* * *

He was as good as dead.

* * *

Taking a deep breath, he tried to remember his training.

_Do what they tell you, try to figure out where you are, and above all, remain calm._

Well _that_ was easier said than done.

He forced himself to take another breath, and the stuffy air invaded his mouth, making him gag. How hadn't he that noticed before? The metallic scent of blood mixed with the stench of mold, forcing their way down his throat and lodging deep in his heart. Underground, perhaps?

His strength was beginning to fail in his panic; his chest pounding loudly in his ears; the painstakingly slow rhythm of a funeral march.

* * *

Shifting about on the chair he was seemingly confined to, he found that despite his wrists being tied together, it was only his upper arms and chest that were tied to the chair.

That gave him a bit of leeway.

Leaning as far to the right as possible, he was able to turn his wrists until the ropes were pressed against the left chair leg.

Blindly grabbing at it, he managed to get the cord in line with the sharpened corner, and he pushed against it firmly.

They didn't give way, as expected, but there _was_ some fraying.

Smiling, despite his situation, he quickly began moving the ropes back and forth against the chair leg, rubbing his wrists raw and numbing his fingers, _but that was okay_.

* * *

Once he escaped, everything would be okay.

* * *

He drew one ragged breath after another, and began counting the seconds, merely to give himself something to do and to distract himself from his stinging wrists.

It was 649 seconds later when he heard the screech of rusting hinges on a metal door, and his hands immediately stilled.

Someone was coming in.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was raw and his mouth were parched; a cough jerked itself from his lips instead. The distinct sound of swishing cloth reached his ears.

It was coming closer.

Closer and closer, the faint footsteps becoming louder and louder, and then-

* * *

He jerked back as freezing water assaulted his senses, drenching his hair and entering his mouth, burning his lungs as he gasped for air.

* * *

He heard the person walk around his chair, and flinched as a warm hand lightly trailed along his shoulders, before resting on the back of his neck.

"Well it's about time you woke up, sleepyhead!"

He stilled at the somewhat _familiar_ feminine voice.

"Who a-are you?"

He cursed himself for stuttering as his teeth chattered and his body violently shivered, the ice-cold water making his shirt cling to him.

"Me? You don't remember? Why darling, I'm appalled".

A flash of dark hair and even darker eyes.

""Who are you?" He asked, voice stronger this time.

A laugh, so similar to one from so long ago.

"Oh, don't worry, you'll remember soon enough" She replied, and he could hear he smirk in her voice, "After all, you and I got real acquainted with each other the last time we met, didn't we?"

A flicker of flames in the corner of his eyes, head too heavy to comprehend.

* * *

She sighed, and slowly walked around the chair once more.

Then she abruptly stopped.

"Oh darling, you shouldn't have".

He yelped as he was roughly yanked back by his hair, and a split second later, there was a resounding _crack_ as his head snapped to the side.

He sat there, head bowed, dazed from the force of the blow.

The woman grabbed his wrist's tightly, noting the splintered rope and the bloody wrists, "You were trying to escape".

The tone was annoyed and accusing, _but not worried_ , and dread crept down his spine like the icy fingers of death.

"And here I thought we could do this the nice way".

He swallowed thickly as she finished her circle around him.

"Now so, we can do this the hard way, or... the hard way, to be honest. Any preference?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I was thinking of the hard way".

He winced as her hand made contact with his face once more, and he felt a gash on his cheek from her ring.

"I remember you being a lot less snarky".

"I can't remember you at all".

She sighed and leant forwards until he could feel her breath on his face.

"You will. Maybe not now. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe even not next week... But you will, eventually".

He shivered, "What do you want with me?"

"Oh, that's simple" She replied, "I just want to make you _burn_ , Sergeant James Hathaway".


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_"The point, inspector, is that this man is not James Hathaway... So just who the hell is he?"_

_"More importantly, where's James?" Lewis asked, and Laura nodded, "And why did someone want us to think that he was dead?"_

_They all stared at each other for a moment, before simultaneously turning to face the body on the slab between them._

_"... Is it too early to consider him a missing person-"_

_"Yes" Innocent interrupted, "As much as I hate to say it, Robbie, we can't legally search for him until 24 hours have passed... But I'll send out a few men for... a training exercise... Quietly, of course"._

_"Of course, ma'am"._

* * *

After that, he had been sent home, forbidden from even texting one of the officers sent out to check the lad's usual places.

He had obeyed Innocent's wishes of leaving the station, but had quickly chosen his own destination to drive to.

If there was anywhere his Sergeant should be, after all, it was where he left him.

Slowly unlocking the door, Lewis took a deep breath before pushing it open. James had given him the keys only a few weeks before, with a nod of the head and a gruff "in case anything ever happens" along with it. They had proven handy before, when he was trying to lag all 6ft-plus of drunk Cambridge ass home after a good night out.

This time, however, it was for a different reason.

* * *

Inside, there was only darkness and silence.

* * *

He slowly walked through the small apartment, not liking how quiet it was, with no chanting monks echoing throughout the room, or light guitar strumming coming from behind the couch, or even the sound of the coffee pot that seemed to be permanently humming in the kitchen.

That alone put him on edge.

"... James?"

His voice resounded around the empty sitting room.

"Sergeant Hathaway?" He asked again.

He got no reply.

Lewis sighed, feeling the last of his hope slowly slip away between his fingertips.

_It didn't make any sense!_

He had left him here only a few hours ago, had brought him home and led him into his room, told him he'd see him on Monday, and then left, locking the door behind him.

So where was he?

He obviously hadn't crashed his own car, so was it just car theft? A robbery gone wrong? Had they fought?

No.

The driver of the car had been drunk, too drunk to break into a car without anyone noticing, and Hathaway had been more than a little tipsy.

_So just where the hell was his sergeant?!_

* * *

Lewis continued wandering through the rooms aimlessly, just breathing in the calming scent of James.

He paused outside the bedroom.

Maybe he was asleep?

They hadn't left the station once the past two days, as they were so caught up in finishing the case, so maybe he was just passed out on his bed?

And didn't hear his car leaving.

And never heard the knocks on his door.

And didn't listen to the thirty voicemails Lewis had left on his phone...

* * *

He silently pushed open the bedroom door.

His first step crunched beneath him.

Frowning, Robbie reached out with an unsteady hand and blindly searched for the light switch, flicking it on.

The first thing he saw when he turned back around, was the lamp smashed at his feet.

He slowly raised his gaze and followed the pushed over dresser, ripped curtains, broken chair, shattered water glass on the bedside table, and torn bedsheets.

* * *

_Bedsheets that were stained with blood._

* * *

His first instinct was to rush forwards into the room and start screaming Hathaway's name.

His second, more logical thought, was _you're a cop, Robbie_. This is a crime scene. _Call it in_.

He took a few more deep breaths to focus his thoughts, and shove down the panic and worry and- _oh god what if that's James' blood what if he's hurt what if he's lying somewhere in a dumpster just waiting to be found waiting for him to come and save him and he should be out there looking and searching and-_

He speed-dials Jean instead.

* * *

20 minutes later, he's sitting on James' couch in the dark, nursing a painful headache and a glass of whiskey in his hands.

He heard footsteps outside the hall, before the door was burst open and Innocent ran in, two armed police guards behind her.

"Sergeant? Lewis? _Robbie?!_ "

She actually sounded quite panicked.

Turning on the light switch, she jumped when she saw him sitting right in front of her.

" _Christ_ , Lewis, I thought... What happened?!"

He wordlessly pointed at the bedroom, where the lights were still on, and she frowned and slowly walked over.

Innocent stopped right outside the door and stared in for a minute, before suddenly turning into the chief superintendent that they all knew and feared, shouting orders at the two officers, commanding them to _call it in, close off the crime scene, start a report-_

Lewis sat there, silently wondering about everything that had happened so far this evening, about the body in James's car, about the blood on James's bed, about _James_.

What the hell did this all mean?!

He was only briefly aware of Laura gently taking the glass from his hand _-hey when did she get here?-_ and pulling him to his feet before leading him back outside to his car, placing him in the passenger side.

Sliding into the drivers seat, she stared at him for a minute before sighing, "Oh, _Robbie_..."

* * *

When he next tuned in, he was sitting on his own couch, with the TV on, Laura curled up next to him, and something a hell of a lot weaker than whiskey in his favourite mug on the coffee table in front of him.

Lewis blinked a few times before frowning and turning to her.

She smiled softly at him, "Innocent called me to take you home".

"... Shouldn't you be at the... the crime scene?"

There was no point in calling it anything else after all.

"Jean said I'd be too involved to work the case".

His surprise must have shown for she swatted him playfully.

"Oh, come off it Robbie, Hathaway and I might not always have seen eye to eye but he's a good lad... when he wants to be".

He snorted, knowing full well that James Hathaway usually did not _'want to be'_.

"So that means I'm definitely off the case, then".

She gave him a look that only Laura could give.

"Did you honestly think she'd let you?"

"... I hoped".

The pathologist sighed, "Robbie... we'll get to the bottom of this, alright?"

"We don't even know what happened!"

"But we will!" She snapped, before softening and reaching out, taking his hand, "We'll find him, okay? We'll find out what happened, we'll find out where he is, and above all else, I promise you we'll bring James home".


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS!
> 
> Or, you know, happy Bodhi Day, Hanukkah, Saturnalia, Yule, Diwali, Ramadan, Kwanzaa, New Year, or whatever else you guys celebrate!
> 
> **Rachel :)**
> 
> _PS. The next chapter isn't so nice, so is there anything you want to see to make up for it?_
> 
> * * *

**Chapter 5**

Hathaway winced as the thin plastic strips cut into his already-torn wrists.

"There!" His captor announced, giving the zip ties one last tug, "That should keep you. I should've known you'd fight back, you always were a tough one to keep down".

Flames danced at the edge of his vision, and he frowned, irritated.

_Who the hell was she?!_

He heard her walk back around to face him, before she took a step closer and gently traced his jaw line.

He flinched away from the soft touch, knowing all too well of the pain that followed.

"So beautiful" She whispered, "Like a phoenix".

* * *

Something clicked in the back of his mind, just as she leant forward and placed her lips against his own.

* * *

Hathaway froze, mind reeling and the taste of ashes and charcoal in his mouth.

* * *

Zoe Kenneth.

* * *

Feeling her grin into the kiss, he bit down, _hard_ , and was rewarded with a pained cry and a sharp slap.

Dazed, he spat at her feet, mind foggy and confused and _she's dead she's dead she has to be dead I saw her die I_ saw _her_ die _-_

"Finally clicked, has it?" She growled, "About bloody time. Heh. _Bloody_. Get it?"

He glared, disgusted with the copper taste in his mouth, "You're _insane_ ".

"Oh, but darling, all the good ones are".

_Psychotic bitch._

"You're dead" He said instead, "I watched you die!"

"Well clearly, I'm not" She shot back, and he heard her walk to the other side of the damp room, "I never went into that building after all".

"I _saw_ you! I saw you go in and- and then it exploded and the body was never found and-" He stilled, "... _And the body was never found_ ".

"Now you're beginning to catch on" Zoe replied, voice suddenly a hell of a lot closer than before, and James automatically jerked back, causing the chair to rock back dangerously.

He could hear the smirk in her voice, "You see, that devout inspector of yours pulled you back just before I supposedly stepped back in. While your back was turned, and while the other officers were too busy calling fire services and keeping you from me, I had a change of heart. I always planned for us to go down together, after all".

He felt heat flicker again his collar bone, and swallowed thickly, "So that's your plan then? You want to burn this room down too?"

The flames were suddenly gone, "Of course not".

He frowned, beyond confused with everything that was happening, "Then what?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, darling, that is the plan eventually" Zoe replied, "Just not for... a while, anyway. Until I get bored, I suppose".

"And in the meantime?"

"Like I said" She said, and the heat was back, this time on his shoulder, "I just want to make you _burn_ ".

* * *

He bit back a cry as the flame got too close for comfort, and tried to distract her.

* * *

"You won't kill me, you don't have it in you".

She laughed, voice just as musical as he remembered.

"You seem to forget that I've killed before, James. Many times, in fact... Or have you forgotten how we met?"

_Will McEwan._

_Reverend Francis King._

_Lady Hugh._

_Zoe Kenne-_

No.

Not Zoe Kenneth, because Zoe Kenneth _Feardorcha Phelan_ was very much still alive.

"I have people looking for me" He grasped blindly at every straw he had, "Inspector Lewis, Innocent, the rest of the force. They have to know I'm missing by now".

"True... If they didn't think you were already dead".

He felt his skin start to sting and his breathing quickened.

* * *

_Okay James, think._

If you anger her, she might make a mistake. But is that really worth the extra pain?

_Don't be a blood hero, lad._

That sounded suspiciously like Lewis.

 _Lewis_.

His heart gave a strange pang.

Did he even know he ease missing?

Was he looking for him?

Did he really think he was dead?

* * *

"I covered up my tracks quite well, after all" She continued, unaware of Hathaway's internal panic, "I didn't have quite enough time to tidy up your room but... oh well, even if someone _does_ bother to check, they'll probably just put it down to your drunken state. That's how you crashed your car, after all".

_Drunk?_

_My car?_

_What was going on here?!_

His shoulder started to blister, and he couldn't prevent his leg jerking up in response, his stomach lurching and hands shaking.

Zoe noticed.

"Why darling, are you _afraid_ of fire?"

"After the last time when you tried to burn me to death?" He got out, voice strained and shoulder hurting _so fucking much_ , "I think I have good enough reason".

"Oh, this is going to be _so_ much fun" She replied, grin practically audible, "You and I are going to have a great time together, James. Just like it was always meant to be".

"You were meant to die" He spat, trying to move as far away as possible from the scorching itch and the smell of burning flesh, "You're meant to be _dead!_ "

* * *

She pressed the flame against his skin.

* * *

Excruciating pain shook through his entire body, radiating from his shoulder, and he felt the tell-tale circular base of a cigarette as it was pressed firmly into his already-blistered skin.

His tough persona immediately crumbled under the pain, and he trashed around in his tight bonds, a cry forcing itself from his lips.

Zoe sighed before releasing the pressure, and he collapsed in his seat, panting heavily and body trembling.

"You see James, I plan on making you suffer, but when you act out like that I just want to cause you even _more_ pain... So it'd be in your best interests not to get acerbic with me".

Breathing heavily, he couldn't push back the urge to snap, "I'm surprised you even know what acerbic means".

He heard a snarl, the sound of her opening a cigarette box, and a lighter being flicked on, and then-

 _ **Pain**_.

And above the ringing in his ears and the pounding in his head and the absolute all-consuming agonizing and achy burning, he could hear her maniacal twisted and sadistic laugh.

* * *

He vowed never to touch a cigarette again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! _A week early update!_
> 
> It has a catch though, cause I won't be able to update next week due to school restarting and getting back test results that... yea... won't be so good...
> 
> BUT!
> 
> **Enjoy the darkness of this delightful story!**
> 
> **Things'll get better soon, don't worry!**
> 
> _Rachel :)_
> 
> * * *

**Chapter 6**

Lewis groaned and placed his head in his hands.

It was Monday morning, 3 days after the car crash where 'James' had supposedly been killed, and they were no closer to finding out what had happened than they were to identifying the body than had fallen out of the car.

Which was to say, they had nothing on either case.

So here he was, sitting in his office and staring at a blank piece of paper, trying to think of anything, _anything at all_ , that could offer any clue as to where the _real_ James Hathaway was.

And he wasn't getting anywhere.

He glanced over at the empty desk across from him, and sighed for the umpteenth time that day, "Just where the bloody hell are you, lad?"

* * *

Lewis looked up as there was a knock at the door, and a familiar pathologist stuck her head in.

"Laura-"

"Before you say anything" She interrupted, holding up a brown paper bag and a styrofoam cup, "I brought lunch, and I'm not leaving until you finish it. Heaven knows the last time you ate".

He couldn't help but give a small tired smile, "Come on in then. If only for the sake of good coffee".

Perching on the edge of his desk, she took out the chicken sandwich and handed him the cup, "You getting anywhere with this?"

"Not at all" He admitted, taking a large bite, "You?"

She slowly nodded, "Bits and pieces. Nothing to tell us where James is, but... a few interesting details about our resident John Buck".

"Still no ID on the body, then?"

"Not a thing. He fingerprints aren't in the system, and there's been no missing persons report on anyone fitting his description. Not that it'd be easy to recognise him, of course. That crash did him a world of damage".

* * *

Lewis couldn't help but wince, knowing all too well that it could have been James in that car, and that all that 'world of damage' could've been done to him just as easily.

* * *

"I did find out something interesting, however" She continued, "Our mysterious body has had some work done".

"What, like plastic surgery? _That_ kind of work?"

"None other" Laura nodded, "The surgeon did a might good job covering it up, of course, but there's still the tell-tale scars below the ears, under the chin, around the hair line... If I were a betting woman, I'd say someone went to a whole lot of trouble to try and make our John Buck look remarkably like Sergeant Hathaway".

He swallowed his last bite of sandwich with a dry mouth, and quickly took a gulp of coffee to hide his shaking hands.

"You mean... You mean that someone- or _someone's_ are purposely trying to- to- to-"

"To make us think that he's dead, yea" She finished quietly, hands gripping the edge of the desk tight enough to whiten her knuckles, "They want us to bury him. To forget about him. To _not look for him_... Whoever did this, is one sick bastard".

He found his gaze drifting beyond her, back to his missing Sergeant's desk, "... You think he's been kidnapped, then?"

"I can't think of any other reason why this would all happen".

"But we've gotten no calls" He frowned, "No- No ransom notes or- or- or money or anything like that at all!"

" _Think_ , Robbie!" She snapped suddenly, standing up to block his view, "Why would someone make us believe that he's dead, only to come back and ask for half a million pounds? It'd make no sense!"

Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, and he had to place his cup on the desk for fear of spilling, _or_ _crushing_ , it.

* * *

" _It's personal_ ".

* * *

"Right, everybody, listen up!" Innocent yelled, flipping the white board and pulling open a marker, "Drop what you're doing, I don't care how important it is, this takes number one priority no matter what, got it?!"

Everyone quickly nodded, having never seen their Chief Superintendent act so riled up before.

"Kidnapping, the attackers unknown, we don't know what they want, or even if they _do_ want anything to begin with. It's personal, and that makes it very _very_ dangerous".

A hand rose in the crowd, "Ma'am? Just who, exactly, was kidnapped?"

She glanced over at Lewis, who stepped forwards to answer.

"It's one of our own" He said gravely, "Detective Sergeant James Hathaway".

Immediately, whispers broke out across the room.

"Silence!" Innocent snapped, "Up until now, we didn't have a motive. We still don't, technically, and we have no suspects or any idea where Hathaway was taken. So any suggestions would be welcome right now".

Another anonymous voice ascended from the mass, "When did this happen? Where did it take place?"

"Sometime late Friday night" She replied, "Between 9 to 11pm, at his own flat".

"Then why wait until now to start searching?"

"We've been searching all along, _Inspector_ " She said sternly, "But you know the protocol, even if Hathaway is one of our own. 24 hours minimum, and even then, we didn't have a single _clue_ as to what was going on".

"The kidnappers tried to make us think he was dead" Lewis continued, "They planted a look-a-like in his car, and drove it over the side of Folly's Bridge. Someone has gone to a lot of lengths to prevent us from looking for him".

"But are you sure he was actually taken? Isn't it possible that someone just hijacked his car and Hathaway decided to take the day off?"

That prompted a few murmurs and condescending snorts, and Robbie felt his blood boil.

* * *

_If only they knew all that James had done for this precinct!_

* * *

Innocent, however, gave a shark-like smile and nodded placidly, "Oh, of course, Inspector, that _is_ possible... And I suppose he just destroyed his own apartment and bashed himself over the head enough to lose almost two pints of blood in the process?"

Lewis could've kissed her.

Noticeably quietened, the other officer flushed and ducked his head, "No, I... I suppose not, ma'am".

"See to it that you _do_ know" She reprimanded, "And that goes for the rest of you lot, too. I know Hathaway isn't your favourite sergeant here, and yea, he's awkward, blunt, and a funny kind of policeman. But he's _our_ policeman. And if we aren't there to find him, then who is?"

She took a deep breath, ignoring the scowls from half the room and the obliging nods from the other half.

"We need to find him. It's been almost three days, and god knows what's happened to him in that time. I need you to go through previous cases, convicts that were a bit more angsty than usual, any strange letters or notes or-"

" _Shit_ ".

* * *

Everyone frowned and turned to face the now pale inspector.

* * *

"Lewis?" Jean asked carefully, and he stared at her, shocked into place, "... Notes. He got a note".

"When?"

"I don't know! About two, three, maybe even four weeks ago? I only found it by chance" He rambled, running a hand through his hair, "It was from a previous arrest of his, a drug dealer from a few years back, he just got out of prison this month. The note said... It said that he was going to make James pay for what he did. For sending him down".

Innocent glared, "And you didn't think to inform me of this?"

"Well the lad bloody well brushed it off, didn't he?!" He snapped, "Said he was a copper, threats like this were part of the job, it didn't mean anything".

She quickly sectioned off the force, "Right, you lot check out this note, it's probably still in his desk, and get it searched for prints. You two, go with Lewis, write it all down. And the rest of you, do some leg work, find out everything you can about this drug dealer, track him down... Well? What are you waiting for? GO!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Hathaway flinched and jerked forwards as he felt the cigarette burn the back of his shoulder blades. Zoe laughed and he held his breath while waiting for the next, inevitable, blow.

It was driving him mad, having his vision blocked by that bloody _awful_ scratchy material, as he couldn't see where she was going to strike him next.

Another scorch, this time at the base of his neck, singeing the ends of his hair, and he hissed, shoulders twitching painfully.

It was even more maddening to have the smell of cigarettes that hovered around him constantly, tantalizing and teasing him, rather ironically not helping with his cravings in the slightest. Since he woke up here, a time he estimated mournfully to be almost an entire week ago, he'd gone cold turkey.

 _Well obviously_ , he grimaced, blocking out the fresh waves of pain that radiated from the new burns at the back of his neck, and the old, now blistering, burns marring both shoulders, collar bones, and arms.

He'd tried to give up smoking a few times since he started back when he was 14, more seriously in the last few years due to Lewis's hatred of the habit and his obsessive need to please the inspector, but he'd never lasted longer than three days, definitely not for five or six, and it certainly had never been as bad as this.

He could feel himself shaking with the addiction, hands trembling with the urge, body begging for his usual stress outlet in this _very_ stressful situation, and he was _furious_ with himself for it.

Considering _everything_ that going on right now, cigarette cravings should have been the last of his worries.

* * *

He shivered.

* * *

His shirt had been lost long ago and his suit trousers had quickly been destroyed under her sharp knife, leaving him rather embarrassingly wearing just his boxer briefs. But nevertheless, it was still a small but blessed mercy that he'd at least been allowed to keep _them_ on. And all of this, combined with being woken with a bucket of freezing water every time he blissfully managed to pass out, had all left him rather _cold_.

He wondered, vaguely, if he was hypothermic.

His entire body hurt with every shake too, as his latest sarcastic comment and attempt at cutting through the zip ties, had resulted in Kenneth knocking over his chair in rage. He had landed rather heavily on his right side, and was pretty sure he'd gone and sprained his wrist and damaged his knee somehow in the process too. Having been left there all night, he was freezing and stiff and _sore_ , and his entire body just _ached_ from the 'lesson' she had decided to teach him the next morning, kicking him a few times while he was still down. Based on his difficulty breathing and searing pain running up and down both his sides, she'd managed to bruise a few of his ribs too.

* * *

A sudden red-hot _sting_ had Hathaway jerking back in shock as she slapped him.

* * *

"Darling, you're not paying me any attention!"

He gritted his teeth in response, cheek smarting, "I can't ever remember you being this needy".

Zoe growled, "You seem to forget the situation that you're in, James".

"I honestly don't think that's possible".

She hummed thoughtfully, "Yes, and apparently your dear ole' inspector thinks the same".

_Lewis?_

He unconsciously leant forwards in his binds, and she sighed, "And after all the trouble I went to making them think that you were dead... I even got an identical body to drive your car over that bridge. And yet something still tipped them off".

_Lewis was looking for him?!_

"Why do you think that is, huh?" She asked, slowly walking around his chair, her fingers trailing along his shoulders, "What made him realize that the body wasn't your?"

"I don't know" He admitted honestly, "Maybe you're plan isn't as foolproof as you thought".

Her hand tightened painfully around the back of his neck. "I beg to differ, James. The man that they found had extensive surgery to make his body identical to yours. I was very precise with my research".

His blood ran cold, "Your... Your research?"

"Well, you didn't think I spent the last few years just biding my time, did you? I've been planning this for months! Following you, taking photographs, marking down _every single detail_ about your body to make you an identical twin".

"I'm honored" He snipped, fighting back the panic of _how the hell didn't he notice her?!_ and Zoe sighed, "And now something's making them think otherwise... a missing scar, perhaps?"

Walking back around to face him, he felt her gaze scrutinize his body carefully, and he couldn't shove down the flush that rose to his cheeks under her intense study.

* * *

He jumped as cold fingers touched a long forgotten scar on his shoulder.

* * *

"Ah".

Hathaway held his breath as she stepped closer, unashamedly straddling his lap as she traced the old bullet wound with something that almost resembled _regret_.

"I never knew that this had happened".

"It was quite a while after we first _unfortunately_ met" He responded, if only to prevent himself from leaning forward into her inviting heat.

"Oh James" She pouted, looping her arms around his neck, aggravating the fresh burns, "You wound me".

"They'll find me, you know" He responded, trying to convince himself as much as her, "Eventually, they'll come".

"I know" She replied, and he could hear the smirk in her voice, "But here's the thing, darling. We've got _plenty_ of time until they do".

"You're underestimating them".

"I'm estimating them perfectly. I'll _win_ this James! I'll burn you from the inside out!" She snarled, leaping back to her feet, and he couldn't help but grin in response, "You've lost before. And you sure _as_ _fuck_ are going to lose now".

* * *

His head snapped back as she hit him, _hard_ , once more, and Hathaway felt his lip split under the force of her punch.

* * *

"I'll torture you until you're nothing but a broken hollow shell of a man!"

He turned back to her, the side of his face stinging and bruised, and give her a bloody grin, _"No rack can torture me, my soul at liberty, behind this mortal bone, there knits a bolder one"_.

He spat blood in her face.

Kenneth shrieked in anger, hitting him once more before storming out and slamming the door behind her.

* * *

And didn't _that_ do wonders for his migraine.

At the same time, however, he felt his heart pound with renewed hope.

They were looking for him.

_Robbie was looking for him._

* * *

Still smirking, he straightened up in his seat, refocusing his attention once more on wearing away the zip ties, despite the very little progress he had so far made.

His arms were stinging, his wrists were bloody, and his fingers were numb, _but it was worth it._

He was going to get out of here.

The police force was looking for him.

He was going to get out of here, go home, and drink beer and eat cheap takeaway on the couch with Lewis, just like they've always done.

All he had to do now, was sit, wait, and count down the hours until his freedom.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Lewis glared at the plastic evidence bag that sat on the desk before him. Inside, was a coffee-stained half-torn death threat, a note that he had fished out of Hathaway's bin almost four days ago.

It was considered part of the crime now.

But he was still no closer to finding anything out about the man who had sent it.

Sighing, he turned back to his computer and clicked on the screen, causing the familiar rep sheet to come up, a photo of a scowling man with a height chart behind him and a t-shirt reading 'Fuck the Police' in the top right-hand corner. Of the screen.

Tom Keats.

Drug dealer extraordinaire.

The same drug dealer who James had locked up for six years and had just been released a week and a half ago.

Only 3 days before his sergeant had gone missing.

The phone on his desk rang loudly, and he rubbed his temples, praying for it not to be some old lady who's cat was stuck in a tree again, before reaching forwards and answering it.

* * *

"DI Lewis".

"... You still lookin' for Keats?"

He immediately straightened up in his seat, "Yes. Who is this?"

"Doesn't matter. You'll find 'im on Shears street".

He frantically searched his desk for a pen, "Shears street? Where?"

"An ole' art gallery" relied the mysterious voice, "Called Crawford's... I 'eard you're lookin' for your boy too".

"James?"

And how ironic is it that it's Hathaway, _Hathaway,_ his classical art and music maestro that's being held _captive_ in an _art gallery?!_

"Who are you?" Lewis asked again, and the man paused, "... A business man. Deal with Keats, inspec'or, and do it quickly".

* * *

The line went dead.

* * *

"Are you sure it's a credible source?" Innocent asked, staring him down, and Lewis quickly nodded, "Of course. I don't see why not".

"Maybe because it was an unknown man that didn't identify himself?"

"Ma'am-"

"Robbie" She cut off, "Don't... Don't grasp at straws".

"I'm not-"

"Yes, you are" She interrupted once more, sitting down behind her desk with a heavy sigh, "... We can't trust this source if we don't know who the man is".

"Keats competition" He replied strongly, "He said he was a 'business man', and he had an accent consistent to the area, so why wouldn't he want Keats off the streets?"

"We still can't just burst in guns blazing!"

"We can if he has drugs on the premises".

"But we don't know that for certain!" She finished, before her eyes softened, "Robbie... I know you want to get James back, we all do. But there's no point in making rash desicions and losing your badge over a corrupt bust in the process".

"It's was an anonymous tip-off" He said quietly, "We've done raids on less".

Innocent stared at him for a minute, before finally giving in with another reluctant sigh, "... Alright. Alright, I'll... I'll see what I can do. I still have a few contacts in the FBI, and god knows one or two of them owe me a favour... Just leave it with me".

* * *

Lewis swore viciously as he stormed out of the art gallery, gun still loaded.

He wasn't there.

_James wasn't there!_

Two days they'd spent planning this operation.

 _Two fucking days wasted_ while James was tied up somewhere, being held captive, being hurt by some maniac.

_Or maybe even dead._

He was _furious_ , no, he was beyond furious, he was fucking _raging_.

He kicked the side of the gallery, hard, and relished in the pain that vibrated up his leg.

_Good. He deserved to feel like James probably did right now._

* * *

"Lewis! Inspector!"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to stop himself from screaming as he turned to face his boss.

Innocent watched him, worryingly, "Are you alright?"

"No, Jean, I'm not _alright!_ " He fumed, "James wasn't there!"

"I heard" She replied carefully, "But I also heard that you confiscated over one million pounds worth of cocaine and heroin".

"So what?"

" _So_ " She emphasized, "Keats was found with the drugs. It's his third offense, Lewis. He's going to be sent away for a long long time".

It was only a small reward considering.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face, "I just... I just don't understand! All evidence pointed at Keats! That man on the phone even- We've hit a dead end".

"And when has that ever stopped you before?"

She ducked her head to catch his gaze, "Lewis. Robbie. Look at me. This is just a small set-back, alright? We'll find him, I promise you. James is a tough lad, he'll be fine, okay?"

He was mortified to find his eyes water, "Will he?"

She stared at him, and refused to answer.

"... Go home, Robbie" Innocent finally said, "It's late. Get something to eat. Go to bed. And I'll call you in the morning".

He swallowed and reluctantly nodded, "Yea... Yea, I'll... I'll see you tomorrow".

"See you tomorrow Lewis" She replied quietly, and he was painfully aware of her gaze staying on him until he drove out of the car park.

* * *

At home, he couldn't sleep.

No surprise there then.

He hadn't slept right ever since Hathaway was declared missing, and that had been a long _long_ ten days ago.

* * *

Abruptly standing up, he began pacing his sitting room, remembering all too well only two weeks ago when him and his sergeant had sat in this very room, with takeaway, cheap beers, and a game of scrabble.

Lewis smiled faintly.

He still doesn't know how the lad managed to convince him to play, he'd just opened the cupboard, pulled out the beaten and battered board game, reluctantly bought when the kids had been young, and given him puppy eyes and a barely-concealed pout.

And Christ, he could never say no to that face.

* * *

Shaking his head angrily at the memories, he marched into the kitchen and ransacked the cupboard, pulling out an expensive bottle of whiskey that Hathaway had gifted him with years ago.

He didn't bother with a glass.

Tearing off the seal, he took a large gulp, his throat burning along with his guilt.

Walking back over to the couch, Lewis collapsed down on it, placing his phone and handcuffs on the coffee table before relaxing back into the seat, bottle already a quarter empty.

He had a nice buzzing in his head now, and his vision was slightly blurred, eyes drifting closed after the days of stress behind him.

He only just remembered to put the cap back on the bottle, and heard it land softly on the carpet below, before he blissfully managed to drift off.

* * *

*BEEP-BEEP* *BEEP-BEEP* *BEEP-

Lewis growled under his breath and reluctantly cracked open one eye.

His phone was flashing rather annoyingly, it's vibration resounding through the wooden table it was left on.

Reaching out, he winced as his back twinged painfully, and flipped it open.

_Jean Innocent._

It couldn't be morning already.

Stiffly sitting up, he hit 'accept call' and held the phone up to his ear.

"'ello?"

"Robbie?" Her voice was strained, "You need to come to the station".

He got a chilling flashback to being in the exact same situation just over a week ago.

He checked the time.

11pm.

He held his breath, "... Have you found him?"

"Robbie-"

"Have you found him?!" He snapped, not caring about being respectful right now.

She let out a heavy breath, "... We know who kidnapped Hathaway".


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

James wanted to cry.

Hours upon hours upon _hours_ ago Kenneth had come in and injected him with something, something that made all his movements slow and sluggish, and prevented him from even having enough strength to push her away when she finally undid the ropes tying him to the chair.

He had stumbled with the dizziness, it was the first time he'd stood up in over a week, but he'd been quickly dragged over to the other side the room, and a thick chain had been wrapped around the zip ties still trapping his wrists. After a lot of pulling and huffing and the painful screech of metal on metal, Kenneth had pulled the chains high above his head, leaving him suspended from something taller even than him.

That left him straining on his tiptoes trying to relieve some pressure from his shoulders, one of which was now numb, after over an hour ago it had popped out with a sickening sound that had left him gasping for breath and fighting back tears from the burning hot _searing_ pain that had eventually, thankfully, subsided.

He wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

And now that psychotic _bitch_ was carving something into his lower back with a blunt knife, ignoring his muffled cries, ignoring the way he tried to fight back against the drug in order to move, and ignoring the near silent curses and swears that fell out of his mouth at the painstakingly slow and methodical drag of the knife forming letters and words that would haunt him forever.

* * *

Zoe hummed happily as she worked.

* * *

"You know" She eventually said, admiring the red blood that trickled slowly from Hathaway's wounds, "Your inspector ran a raid today. He thought you were being held captive by some sketchy drug dealer. He was quite upset when they didn't find you".

The fact that Lewis was going in the right direction of previous arrests, gave him a little bit of extra hope.

"I, however, am getting quite bored" She continued, with a flourish of her blade, and he flinched, too exhausted to make any noise.

"I was angry when I realized they hadn't fallen for the dead body. But now that I think about it... well... this way it's a lot more fun, isn't it?"

His head hung in defeat, eyes slipping closed.

"I mean, this way, I get to watch Inspector Lewis burn too. I never did like that man. He drove you to me, of course, after that little lovers spat of yours, but asides from that..." She sighed, "He's been a bit of a nuisance to be honest. And I've come up with a new plan. A _better_ plan".

Leaning back, she admired her handiwork, and nodded once, satisfied.

"I'm tired of watching them run around like kicked puppies, so I plan on giving them a little encouragement" She explained, and he heard her walk back across the room and place down the knife.

A few seconds later, the unmistakeable *click* of a keyboard was audible, and he strained to hear her type something into a laptop, which gave a low beep.

"There's nothing better to tease a puppy with, after all, than its favorite treat".

* * *

Hathaway abruptly stilled as he heard a loud gasp, and not just one, but one, two, _three_ , one man and one woman, definitely, and then... another woman?

He could hear the grin in Kenneth's voice as she spoke.

"Now don't be rude, darling, say hello to our favourite police force".

* * *

He immediately stiffened, because the only decency he'd been left with was his boxer briefs and if he looks in anyway similar to how he feels... well... it was no wonder they were shocked.

* * *

He heared a man yelling and a woman frantically whispering to him, the other seeming to talk to Kenneth with a calmer, more controlled voice, a voice that still held a faint trace of a tremor, and based on all that and the fact that these were people from his force then- _Hey, the whole gang's here!_

* * *

"Chief Superintendant" Zoe began cheerily, "How are you today?"

"I'd be better if you gave me back my sergeant" She replied tightly, and the younger woman sighed, "Oh but James and I are having so much fun... Did you like the body I left you?"

"Whose body is it?"

"That doesn't matter".

"I beg to differ".

"Well of course you do" She finished simply, "That's why you're a cop and I'm a criminal".

Hathaway swallowed thickly, his head still foggy and limbs weak.

"What do you want?" Innocent asked again, because that _was_ Innocent, Zoe had said so.

 _But she had lied before_.

"I want to make him _suffer_ " She said coldly, "He ruined my plans. We were meant to die together, he was the only one left that caused Will's death. _He deserves this_ ".

" _No one_ deserves this" Jean said firmly, "Hathaway didn't cause Will to commit suicide, it was his own choice".

" _Liar!_ " She snarled, "He rejected him, he turned him away. Will was his best friend. He laughed, he told him he was a sinner, a monster. And afterwards, once he'd seen what he did, what he caused, he was the only one who felt remorse. But that doesn't make him any less guilty!"

* * *

For the umpteenth time since arriving in this hellhole, Hathaway wished he could tear off the stupid bandages still covering his eyes and see what was happening around him.

* * *

"Can't you see that you've harmed him enough?! Let him go, Kenneth, that's the only way you can come out of this alive".

"Ha! See that's where you're wrong. I wanted to have my fun in peace without the cops interfering. And then, once he was dead, I could send you his body. _Just imagine it_. Finding out that I've been torturing him all along while you've been sitting at home, none the wiser. It would _destroy_ you".

She suddenly sighed.

"But now you've gone and realized that he's alive, and I've had to change my plan. But don't worry. I'll make sure he suffers _thoroughly_ before killing him in... oh, I don't know... maybe in three hours time? And then you can spent the rest of your life knowing that you couldn't do anything to stop it".

"Kenneth wait, let us-"

"Oh don't worry, I'll give you time to say your goodbyes" She interrupted, and James heard her walk towards the door, "But make it quick. I've got more pain to cause".

* * *

The door slammed shut behind her and silence fell heavily around the room.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"James? _James!_ "

Hathaway hummed thoughtfully.

Was it possible that he was hallucinating?

Was that what she injected him with?

Surely she didn't actually leave him alone with them...

"James? Can you hear me?"

Though that voice _did_ sound rather too real to be anything _but_ his boss, and there had been that conversation between Kenneth and Innocent...

" _James!_ "

He slowly opened his mouth, wincing when the movement pulled at dry lips, causing them to bleed.

"... Sir?"

His voice was hardly a whisper, but it carried loudly across the painfully silent room.

"Oh thank _god!_ "

So he was real after all.

"Listen, we're going to get you out of there alright? You just have to hang on for-"

* * *

He abruptly stopped.

* * *

If they were in any other position, Hathaway would've laughed.

" _Hang_ on, sir?"

"... Bad choice of words, sorry. How're you feeling?"

"Numb" He admitted.

"Well that's... good" Robbie replied awkwardly, "You'll be better soon, don't worry."

"'s alright" He mumbled, head seeming to increase in weight, "Was nice knowing you sir".

"Was nice know- _Christ_ , lad, we're not leaving you there!"

Hathaway frowned, confused.

"... You know where I 'm?"

"We're getting there, lad, I promise" Lewis replied quickly, "You just need to wait, alright?"

"A'right" He said, "Sorry I can't 'elp you. I can't see any'ing".

* * *

"James..."

Was that Dr. Hobson?

She sounded hesitant.

"James... How long have your eyes been covered?"

He frowned.

"Since I got 'ere... 'owever long that's been".

"It's been a while" She admitted, still strangely worried.

And he wasn't the only one who heard it either.

"Laura?" Lewis asked, "What's wrong?"

"... Nothing" She finally replied, "Let's just focus on getting him home, yea?"

"Yea, of course, we just need to-"

* * *

Everyone flinched as the door was suddenly thrown open.

* * *

"Said your goodbyes?" Kenneth said, "No? Too bad. Your time's up".

Innocent quickly stepped forward, "Wait!"

The younger woman stopped and frowned at her.

"Wait, please, we can discuss this" She continued, and Zoe laughed, "Discuss this? Discuss what?! The only thing I want is to hurt him".

"You don't have to do this" She tried again, grasping at straws, "We can still find something-"

"Stop!" She snapped, "There's nothing you can offer me, nothing that you can give. Just admit defeat, Chief".

Next to her, Lewis clenched his fist, and she put a hand on his arm to try and calm him down, "There has to be something".

"There's nothing!" She yelled, "Why aren't you listening to me?! The only thing I want is to burn".

Innocent opened her mouth again but Kenneth cut her off, by lifting her hand and shaking the box of matches, "The only thing I want, Superintendent, is to finally get my happy ever _fiery_ after".

* * *

The screen went black.

* * *

The trio stood there in silence, in front of the computer, too shocked by the horrific sight of James Hathaway, bloodied and bruised and hanging from the ceiling, to move.

And then, there was a loud *bing*.

Immediately, they spun around, and Innocent marched over to the only other person in the room, headphones on and a laptop in front of him.

"Well?" She demanded, too shaken to act her usual calm self, "Did you get it?"

He held up a hand before typing something quickly on the computer, watching the satellite map zoom in to east Oxford.

"Do we have it?" Jean asked again, "Did we get the location?"

He slowly nodded as image stopped moving.

"Yea" He said, "Yea... We got it".

* * *

Hathaway bit back a muffled yell as he felt the knife lodge itself in his thigh.

Kenneth. Was. _Furious_.

Apparently the police had found out where she was, and she was convinced it was because he had told them something.

And apparently, a snarky "how the fuck could I tell them where I am when you've fucking blindfolded me?!" was the wrong answer.

Unfortunately, the drug she had given him had worn off by now, and he was taking his immense pain out on her with sarcastic remarks and bitting curses.

"It's all your fault!" She snarled, yanking back out the knife, and he swore viciously, "I told you you'd fucking lose!"

He heard shouting in the corridor outside his room.

" _I'll end you!_ " She growled, and he felt the sharp metal of a thick blade, warm with his blood, being placed at his neck.

"It's time for you to _die_ , darling".

* * *

Then the door was kicked in.

* * *

James heard her give a furious scream, before she spun around to hide behind his prone body, knife still at his neck.

"Stand down, Kenneth".

He recognized Robbie's voice immediately.

From behind him, he heard Zoe laugh.

"I don't care if you kill me, Inspector, but just know that I'm taking him with me".

"James?"

His head swam dizzily with relief.

"Sir".

"Stay with us, alright?"

His voice failed him, so he nodded in response, the action causing a thin line of blood to trickle down his neck.

"Stand. Down" Lewis said again, voice controlled but clearly angry, "The buildings surrounded. You can't escape".

The blade pressed more firmly against his neck as she gave a manic laugh, "I don't think so".

* * *

Hathaway heard a gunshot, a clink of metal, and a thud as she dropped the knife and snarled, before sudddenly her hands were around his neck, strangling him, and he's panicking and thrashing around in her grip and he's vaguely aware of the zip ties around his wrists finally snapping, _well too bloody late_ , and he's trying to get loose, trying to escape, trying to _breathe_.

He heard a loud bang and a sharp whistling but his ear which abruptly cuts off the vicious laugh, and Kenneth's hands go limp around his neck and fall back and then suddenly he's falling, falling, _falling_ but that doesn't matter because now _he can breathe._

He braces himself for the impact on the cold concrete floor, but before he hits it, a pair of warm arms are grabbing him, softening the fall, and he's briefly aware of someone yelling his name before be finally, blissfully, _thankfully_ , slips into the peaceful unknown.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

It was Monday morning, painfully early, and an entire 11 days after James had been taken, that they finally rescued him and got him to hospital.

Robbie had squeezed himself into the ambulance, holding the blonde's hand as he remained unconscious for the entire journey, the paramedics rushing around them and shouting orders and pulling out injections and bandages and stitches and-

And James had flatlined twice.

* * *

So now, here he was, sitting in the hospital waiting room, the sun only just about starting to rise outside, still in his ambush gear stained by James's blood and his hands tightly gripping his hair as he tried to convince himself _everything will be okay don't worry everything will be okay._

* * *

"Robbie!"

He quickly looked up only to find a teary Laura standing a few meters away from him.

At the sight of her frazzled appearance and streaky makeup, he felt tears come into his own eyes, and she rushed forwards, paling, fearing the worst.

She came to a stop only two feet in front of him, "Is he...?"

"... He was alive, last time I saw him".

She let out a sigh of relief and all but collapsed down on the chair next to him, "Oh thank god... How was he?"

"He was rushed into surgery a while ago, but on the way here... his heart stopped" He admitted, "Twice. And there was so much blood... _God_ , Laura, there was _so much blood_ ".

She put her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close, "Don't worry, Robbie. This is James we're talking about! He'll pull through, you know he will".

"He's never been hurt this bad before".

"But he didn't let that- that- that _bitch_ break him either, now, did he?" She shot back, "He's a strong one, our James, and this is no different".

He took a deep breath and slowly nodded, straightening up in his uncomfortable plastic chair, "I know, I know, but I just... I still can't help but worry... Where's Innocent?"

"Paperwork" Laura replied, "She wanted to be here, but... well... one of her experienced senior officers decided to go for a kill shot rather than a disarming shot, so she's trying to get it all sorted".

He groaned and put his head in his hands, "I couldn't... I couldn't just let her... she had a _knife_ and she'd already _hurt_ James _so much_ and I was _so fucking terrifie_ d that she'd go just a _step_ too far and- and- _and-_ "

"I know, Robbie" She replied gently, "But thankfully, Innocent's on your side. She's getting it all sorted out now as we speak so there'll be no loose ends to come back and haunt us later on. Kenneth has been sent to my morgue, where she'll stay until we can find some family member or friend to claim her body... Once James heals and gets better, we'll be able to put all of this behind us, don't worry".

* * *

"DI Lewis?"

He quickly jumped up as a doctor suddenly emerged from the doors they had wheeled James to.

"Yes, yes, that's me!" He said loudly, marching over, "I'm here for James. Where he is? Is he alright? Is everything okay? There were no complications, were they? What happened to-"

"Robbie" Laura interrupted gently, placing a hand on his arm, "Just let the poor man speak, yea?"

He sighed and nodded, giving a weak smile as way of apology.

The doctor smiled back, "Mr Hathaway is out of surgery, though he'll need many more over the next few days once he recovers some more. Currently, he's been moved to a private room in the Intensive Care Unit. He's in a critical condition, and nowhere near being stable... but he's alive and being kept sedated and that's all anyone can do for him right now".

He's alive.

_He's alive._

Robbie suddenly felt the entire world brighten around him.

"Am I-" He coughed to clear his throat, "Am I allowed to see him?"

The man sighed, "Normally... no".

His face fell.

"But considering the circumstances... How Mr Hathaway came to be injured, the nature of your professional relationship, the fact that you are both police officers, and that Dr Hobson, while more used to working with dead bodies, is still qualified to work with living people... I think I can allow it".

Lewis could have kissed the man.

"Go straight through those doors" He continued, pointing at the way he had come through, "Turn right. It's the fifth door down on the left-hand side of the corridor".

He barely had time to bite out a quick, "Thank you!" before he took off, all-but running down to the ICU room that James was in.

* * *

Once he had pushed the door open, however, he froze.

Lying there, still and pale on the hospital bed, was his awkward lad.

He was surrounded by machines, machines that kept his heart beating for him, and he had a breathing tube shoved down his throat, a small piece of medical tape keeping it in place. Thick blankets pulled up to his shoulders prevented Robbie from seeing the worst of the damage, and he vaguely recalled Laura mentioning that he might have hypothermia after she'd seem him shivering so much in the video Kenneth had set up. His skin was so ashen, it just blended right in with the bedsheets, contrasted only by the dark bruises forming around his neck, the split lip and black eye, and the stitched-up gash running along a sharp cheekbone.

* * *

Robbie shoved down the sudden urge to collapse and weep, and instead, forced himself to walk over and sit in the chair next to the bed.

James remained silent, unconscious, and he stared at him with conflicting emotions.

On one hand, he was _so fucking happy_ that he was alive, that he was still here, that he was _safe_.

But on the other hand, he was damaged.

Not beyond repair, because James was too bloody stubborn to let that happen, but damaged enough that they had one hell of a long road ahead of them to recovery, both physically and mentally.

And it was going to be _their_ road, because while there were many times throughout their friendship and work that he had turned his back on the awkward sod, this was most definitely _not_ one of them.

And so, he leant back in his chair, continued to gaze at the bundled-up sergeant, and tried not to think about how he couldn't even hold his hand.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Robbie entered the room with a heavy sigh and slowly sat down on the chair next to the hospital bed.

"I brought one of your favourites, lad" He announced, holding up the thick volume, "Thought it might inspire you to... well... to maybe wake up".

The blonde remained motionless against the white sheets, stitches and bandages all still in place, but the breathing tube was out now, _and_ _that's a good sign, isn't it?_

"It's been three days, James" He continued quietly, "I know you need time to recover and all, but... could you at least do that with your eyes open?"

No response.

Lewis sighed once more, and opened the front cover of the book, "Tale of Two Cities alright for you? I know you love this Charles Dickens guy, so I picked up the copy at your place when I tidied the apartment a few days ago".

He gave a sad smile, "God, I still remember what you said me all those years ago, when this book was found at a crime scene. I'd made some stupid comment, as usual, but you had some clever remark ready, gave an insightful, deeper reason for why Dickens wrote it... A metaphor, I believe you called it, something about showing the social injustices in this world. And to think, all along, I just thought it was a book about a lass who saved three pitiful blokes".

He glanced up, hopeful for a sarcastic response, but the younger man remained still on the bed next to him.

Robbie coughed, clearing his suddenly tight-feeling throat, and settled back into his seat, "Well. Best start reading, then, I suppose... _It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness-_ "

Finishing chapter one, he slowly closed the book cover and glanced back up at the silent blonde.

"I'm a bit stuck for time, I'm afraid. I'm due at work soon, though it hasn't been the same without you, now, has it? My awkward sod..."

Taking a deep breath, he placed the book on the bedside table and stood up, "Well then, you'll just have to wait until this evening to find out what happens next. Though knowing you, you probably memorised the novel before you even started university".

Robbie patted the bedsheets awkwardly, "I'll, uh, I'll see myself out, lad".

He had just about turned and reached for the door, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw-

* * *

_Movement_.

* * *

Turning around, he all but ran back to the bed.

_Did I imagine that?_

_No._

_There is it again._

James's hand twitched.

Robbie quickly hit the 'call' button before falling to his knees besides the bed.

He carefully took the blonde's hand in his own, "James? James, lad, can you hear me?"

His fingers twitched in his grip, then his hand, and then his entire arm, but his eyes remained closed.

"James? Can you wake up for me?" He asked, hardly daring to breath, "Please, James? For me?"

Another jerk, before suddenly-

* * *

His entire body convulsed.

* * *

Robbie leapt to his feet the same time one of the hospital machines gave off a loud wailing and three doctors burst into the room.

He stared in shock at the figure on the bed, James, _his_ James, as he began jerking and twisting and shaking.

"Sir?"

"Sir!"

"Mr Lewis!

He slowly turned to face the nurse who had grabbed his arm, and her eyes softened when she saw his ashen face.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you have to leave".

He frowned, "Leave? What do you mean leave? I can't-"

"The doctors will do all they can, sir, but right now, they need the space to work in" She explained, "Sir, please, you have to leave. You can return the usual time tonight".

* * *

Robbie wasn't quite sure how he managed to drive into work safely, because he sure as hell wasn't focusing on the road in front of him.

All he could picture was the pale, trembling body of his sergeant.

His sergeant, who while in a critical condition, was still meant to be stable.

"Lewis?"

He blinked and slowly turned to face the entrance of his office, where Innocent was now standing.

She frowned when she saw him, and quickly stepped in, shutting the door behind her.

"Robbie? What happened? Is it James?"

He cleared his throat, "Something... Something happened, this morning. He just started shaking and jerking and... They're talking about moving him back to the ICU".

"Oh, Robbie..." She carefully laid a hand on his shoulder, "He will get better, you know. Hathaway's always been a fighter. It'll just... It'll just take some time, alright?"

He nodded gruffly, "Thank you, ma'am".

"And, speaking of time, when he finally does wake up, I'm putting both of you on an extended sick leave".

He looked up in protest, but Innocent quickly silenced him with a glare, "Oh, come off it, Lewis. We both know it's going to be a bloody long time before he's fit for work again, and you and I both know you've got quite a few sick days built up".

She took a deep breath and straightened up, "And besides, Hathaway isn't exactly the one to ask for help, now, is he? But he'll need it. And what a better person to help him, than you?"

"... How long will we be off for?" He eventually asked, and she hummed thoughtfully, "Probably until the doctor says so, but... once Hathaway waked up, we'll see".

He slowly nodded, and she gave a brief smile before heading back towards the door, "You'll inform me if anything changes, yes?"

"Of course" He replied, "And... ma'am?"

She glanced back at him, a knowing gleam in her eye, "Yes Lewis?"

"... Thank you".

* * *

He returned to the hospital that night with the icy grip of fear tearing at his heart.

He wasn't sure what he expected to find, when he opened the door, and it took a good few minutes of bracing himself for the worst, before he opened it.

James remained lying motionless in his bed, slightly paler than he'd been this morning, and Robbie felt his eyes dampen when he noticed that the breathing tube was now firmly taped back in place.

And so, with a heavy heart and an even heavier sigh, he sat down in his usual seat, picked up 'A Tale of Two Cities', and started reading Chapter Two.

James would wake up, in his own time of course, when he was good and ready, because no one could deny that the lad was nothing if not a perfectionist.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, what you've all been waiting for...
> 
> **What do you guys think so far? Anything you want to see?**
> 
> Rachel :)
> 
> * * *

**Chapter 13**

James slowly came back to consciousness, mind foggy and body strangely numb.

He could hear noises surrounding him, the beeping and whirring of machines, the sound of pages of a book turning, and a low, calm, voice that began to lull him back to sleep.

To prevent this, as he rather felt like he'd been sleeping for a long time, he flickered open his eyes.

And was met with darkness.

* * *

" _Why won't you let me see you? I know who you are now, after all"_

_He received a scornful laugh in response, "Let's just say that I enjoy seeing you helpless, darling"._

" _I'm far from helpless, Kenneth. I can still hear. I can see feel and move and smell... And eventually, I'll get this blindfold off and be able to see you too"._

_A sigh, long and drawn out, and then the tell-tale burn of a cigarette on his shoulder, "Oh James, poor, misguided, disillusioned, James... You won't be seeing anything for a long, long, time"._

* * *

He felt his breathing hitch and his hands jerked up to scratch and claw and _scrawl_ at his eyes because _I can't see I can't see oh god I'm still there I can't see because I'm still there she still has me I'm still there I'm still there I'm still there-_

Distantly, he hears alarm bells blaring and rather irritating beeping begin, and that nice gentle voice bit out a panicked curse before there was a painful screech of a plastic chair on tiles and a rush of air next to him and then suddenly-

Warm hands grab his own and a soothing familiar voice echoes in the small room, "Hey, hey, hey, _calm down_ lad, you're alright, just calm down, deep breaths, _you're_ _alright,_ _James_ ".

He immediately stilled, because that couldn't be- there's no way that's- but it has to be-

"... Sir?"

He mentally cringed at how unsteady and _young_ his voice sounded.

The hands around his wrists gently lowered them back to his side.

"Yea, lad, it's me" came the familiar Geordie accent, "And _man_ , am I glad to hear you talk again".

_Robbie_.

But... but that means he's safe... he was rescued and Robbie was there and Kenneth is gone and that means he's _safe_.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he lies back and feels his breathing even out.

"... W-Where am I?"

He coughed against a sore and bruised throat.

_F_ _uck,_ does it hurt to talk.

"You want something to drink?"

James reluctantly nodded because _this is going to be awkward_ but thankfully Robbie doesn't make any snide remarks as he places a straw to his mouth and after a second or two of clumsy manoeuvring there's-

_Blessed, cool, water, oh how I've missed you._

* * *

After a minute or two, Lewis pulled back.

"There you go, lad. Better?"

James nodded once more, not trusting his brittle voice, and he hears the cup being placed back on the locker next to him.

"Gave us quite the scare, you did" the older man continued, "when you collapsed like that. For a minute there, I thought I'd lost you... do you remember what happened, lad?"

He took a steadying breath- _because, really, he always remembered just a little bit too much, now, didn't he?_ -and nodded.

Robbie sighed, "Right... well, I've texted Laura and Innocent, the latter should here soon enough, and when you woke all those machines started making a right racket, so I'd imagine there'll be a doctor coming in any minute now".

* * *

And as if on cue, James heard the door open and heavy footsteps walk in.

* * *

"Ah, Mr Hathaway, it's about time you woke up. I'm Doctor Thaw, I'll be watching over you until you're ready to go home... I imagine you have some questions?"

"Where am I?" He repeated, voice somewhat clearer but throat still sore.

"Hospital. The John Radcliff. Room 109" He replied simply, and the blonde slowly nodded, "And... my injuries?"

"Quite extensive, I'm afraid" He replied shuffling through a stack of papers, "Though thankfully, not many will actually scar. A few stitched-up lacerations, bruising, a sprained wrist, dislocated shoulder, one cracked rib, fractured ankle, and numerous burns. I'm sure your Inspector will give you more details... What causes me the most concern, however, are your eyes".

His hand automatically rose to feel the soft bandages that prevented his gaze, the material thankfully completely different from the scratchy bag that used to obscure his vision.

"Am I..."

"Blind?" Thaw finished, "No. Not permanently, at least".

He let out the breath he'd been holding and felt Robbie's warm hand land gently on his hand.

"However, you _will_ be blind for a while" the doctor continued, "But I'm afraid I can't tell you just how temporarily it will be for. Your eyes were covered for so long, they've... adjusted, as such, to complete darkness. It'll take them time to readjust, so you'll need to keep those bandages on for a few more days, I'm afraid. After that, you can just wear tinted sunglasses, and eventually... your eyesight will return".

James slowly nodded, head reeling and a million thoughts flying through his mind at once.

He'd heard similar stories over the years, of temporary blindness.

It affected infants and young children more dangerously than adults, but it wasn't rare.

Especially for kidnap victims like him.

"I'll leave you to settle in, but I'll return this evening" Thaw finished, clearly realising his inner turmoil, "Don't go anywhere, will you?"

Next to him, Robbie huffed a laugh, "Don't worry, doc, I'll make sure he stays right here".

* * *

James slowly lowered his arms back to his lap, feeling the thick gauze that surrounded his wrists, and he frowned, poking at it.

Robbie sighed and reached forwards to stop his prodding, carefully turning his hands over to look at the bandages, "So how did this happen, then?"

"I..." He had to pause to think back for a minute, "There was rope and... and zip ties... I was trying to escape".

He snorted, "Well, I can see that. When we found you, your wrists looked like someone took a carving knife to them".

He looks like, if in any other situation, that he tried to top himself.

James gave a quirky twist of his mouth, "Oh no, sir, what will Innocent think?"

* * *

"I think I'm damn lucky that we found you still alive".

* * *

He jumped, head snapping to the side where he _thinks_ the voice came from.

"Ma'am! I didn't realise- I couldn't- I didn't mean to-"

A bone-weary sigh cut him off.

"You're alright, Hathaway. I think... I think we all could do with a bit of leniency after the last few weeks, especially _you_ , of all people..."

She slowly trailed off before suddenly clearing her throat, "I know this may be a stupid question, James, but... how are you feeling?"

"... Honestly?"

"Of course".

"Like shit, ma'am".

Robbie snorted, before quickly, and unsuccessfully, trying to cover it up with a cough.

James could practically _hear_ the glare Innocent was giving him.

"Has DI Lewis informed you about everything that happened?"

"Not yet, ma'am".

"Alright, well, then, I'll... I'll let you to it".

He heard the door open again, but Innocent took only a single step forwards before pausing, "... James?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"... It's good to have you back".

"It's good to be back" He admitted quietly, and she seemed to stare at him for a minute longer before turning and shutting the door after her.

* * *

"Now so" Robbie announced, settling back in his chair, "What do you want to know?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise update!
> 
> **Because reviews make me update quicker *hint hint* *nudge nudge***
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Rachel :D
> 
> * * *

**Chapter 14**

Lewis frowned worriedly as the familiar constable walked down the hallway towards him, official uniform on and a notebook in hand.

It was a Thursday, 11 days since they had found James, but only 3 since he'd woken up.

And now he was about to get debriefed.

Lewis had protested vehemently, of course, claiming that the lad was still too injured, too weak, too much still in shock to be answering questions now, and even Dr. Thaw had made an official statement, claiming that it would only further damage James's condition by recalling the painful memories that had put him in hospital to begin with.

But Innocent had wanted it done as soon as possible.

And James, the stupid sod, had agreed.

So here he was, holding open the door for Gurdip who, thankfully, looked as reluctant to debrief the sergeant as Lewis did.

It didn't help that James was still covered in bandages from head to toe, and that the few flashes of pale skin that they _could_ see, were after turning black and blue.

But the lad put on a brave face, Robbie knew that much, and seemed to almost appear like he hadn't been affected by the kidnapping.

Robbie also knew, of course, that it was just a façade.

* * *

"Constable Gurdip is here, lad" He said, returning to his seat by the blonde's bed, not failing to notice how James's fingers twitched as he just itched to tear off the bandages blocking his view of the man.

Gurdip cleared his throat and took the seat next to the door, "Hathaway... before we begin, I just wanted to say that I'm... Im sor-"

"Please do us both a favour by not finishing that sentence".

Lewis couldn't help but smirk as Gurdip blinked in surprise before turning to him for guidance.

He smiled gently at the Constable, "He's still Sergeant Hathaway".

They could practically hear the blonde's eye roll "Well of course I'm still Sergeant Hathaway, who else would I be?"

Relief immediately flashed over Gurdip's face, and Lewis bitterly thinks that, just like him, he'd expected James to be just a hollow shell of the man he once knew.

His awkward sod always did love defying expectations.

Robbie feels an unexpected swell of pride warm his heart at that thought.

"You know why I'm here then?"

The blonde nodded, "Of course. Debrief the victim. Standard procedure and all that".

"James you're not the victim!"

It was out of his mouth before he realised it.

He glanced over at him, frowning, "Sir, by all definitions, I _am_ the victim here".

"But you're not... oh, you know..."

He gestured pointlessly, knowing full well that his hands couldn't be seen but that Hathaway could imagine his actions anyway.

James gave a quirky smirk, "A damsel in distress?"

"Well... yea".

"That's why the force use the word 'victim' and not 'damsel'. Gives us a broader range, sir".

"Alright, smartass, you're a victim now, happy?" He grumbled, only to get another smirk in response, "Ecstatic, sir".

Turning back to a half-bewildered, half-bemused Gurdip, James turned serious once more, "Shall we begin?"

The Constable scrambled to open his notebook, "Ah, yea, yea, sure. Now so, let's see... How do you know-"

"Previous case".

He glanced up at him, mouth still open, before coughing and scribbling it down.

"Right... and, ah, do you know why-"

"Yes. She tried to kill me last time we met" James interrupted once more, "Decided to try again, obviously".

Gurdip blinked, "... How do you-"

"Know what you're going to ask?" He finished, and Lewis coughed to hide an amused snort.

"... Yea. That".

"I'm a police sergeant, Gurdip... How many times do you think I've asked people these exact same questions?"

* * *

That sobered them up.

* * *

It took only half an hour for all questions to be answered, and by the end of it, Robbie could see James's hands were shaking in the tight clasp he kept them in.

Yet despite all that, he had successfully answered any and all questions that Gurdip had thrown at him in a clear, precise manner that left both the Inspector, and the Constable, with a sick feeling in their stomachs.

Standing up, Gurdip flipped close his notebook, and nodded at Lewis, "Well, that's that then. Thank you for cooperating".

"Of course" He replied, also standing to shake the man's hand, "I'll walk you out, yea?"

Heading over to the door, he held it open while the man said goodbye to James.

Stepping out into the hall, however, the Constable was quietly called back.

"Gurdip?"

He stopped and glanced back at the blonde.

"DI Lewis said... he told me that you were the one who found the body... _my_ body, as such".

He swallowed thickly, "Yea... I did".

James slowly nodded, "I... I just wanted to say that... I'm sorry, for that. I know it couldn't have been easy".

He forced a smile despite knowing that the younger man couldn't see, "It wasn't your fault, Sarge... We all have crazy ex's".

He barked out a sudden laugh and Gurdip's smile, for the first time in a long while, turned genuine.

He turned back to the door, "I'll see you around, Hathaway. Get better soon, yea?"

"Yea" the younger officer replied faintly, just before the door shut behind them.

* * *

Stopping in front of the elevators, Lewis studied the man carefully, taking in his pinched expression and the tight grip he had on the notebook.

"You alright?"

The man thought for a minute before suddenly turning to face him, "Is _he_ alright? Seriously?"

Lewis sighed, "James is... he's a fighter. Always has been. And an emotionally-bottled-up one at that... he puts on a good show, but-"

"But...?"

He met his gaze evenly, "I think he's hurting a hell of a lot more than he's letting on".

Gurdip slowly nodded, "I thought as much. The things he said, for the report, the _way_ he said them... He was almost _too_ unaffected".

"I know what you mean, man" Robbie replied, as the elevator doors slid open, "And honestly? I think what happened to him just... hasn't kicked in yet".

"Well" the Constable replied, stepping into the lift, "Give him my best, yea?"

Lewis nodded, and waited until the doors had slid shut after him, before turning and slowly making his way back down the corridor.

He felt his heart freeze as he caught site of morose nurses leaving James's room, his brain immediately thinking the worst, and before he could stop himself, he had ran forwards and shoved past them into the lad's room.

* * *

Only to find James still lying in bed, sleeping.

* * *

"DI Lewis".

Robbie jumped and spun around only to find Doctor Thaw standing at the foot of the bed, a clipboard in his hands.

"What happened?" He demanded, "I was only here a few minutes ago, what went wrong?!"

The man levelled him with a stern glare, "What went _wrong_ , Inspector, is that Mr. Hathaway had a _panic attack_ and had to be _sedated_. I told you it was too soon to question him, now look at the consequences!"

Lewis paled, head snapping back around only to realise that- yes, James was sleeping, but he was too still for it to be natural, that the bedsheets were twisted and crumpled as if he'd been trashing around in them, and that there were-

They were tear marks streaking his face.

Slowly walking over, he collapsed back down in his usual seat, and carefully took the silent blonde's hand, noting the occasional blood stain that hadn't been there when he'd left.

"He's after pulling out some stitches" Dr. Thaw continued, "Not to mind the pressure he just put on broken bones... You are damn lucky we were able to sedate him, Inspector, or you'd have more than just _me_ to answer to".

The doctor continued to eye him mistrustfully, as if _he_ had been the one to press the debriefing, even as he sighed and ran a tired hand over an even more tired face, "I understand that questions had to be answered, Mr. Lewis... but by forcing him to relive those memories, so soon after he escaped that place, so soon after he just _woke up_... let's just say it's done more harm than good... And you better be fully equipped to deal with the fallout".


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Anything you guys want to see happen next?**
> 
>  
> 
> Rachel :P
> 
> * * *

**Chapter 15**

Five days later and Robbie and James's indefinite leave from the force began, as the sergeant was finally, _finally_ , released from hospital.

Lewis couldn't help but grin every time he visited, stepping into the hospital room only to find his once unresponsive bagman with the pallor of death, transformed back into his dry humoured James who managed to glare at the poor nurse changing his bandages even without his annoyed gaze visible.

Dr. Thaw had been rather reluctant to let the blonde go, but as James had more than annoyed the various orderlies throughout his stay, they all vouched that he was well enough to leave, and the doctor had sighed and signed the necessary forms, claiming that as long as Hathaway was under strict supervision and bed rest, it shouldn't do him much harm. Robbie had quickly stepped in at that point, vouching for his sergeant as he'd be moving in with him for the foreseeable future. The blonde had turned to him, surprised, but not unhappy, and so here he was, signing the lad out as Dr. Thaw checked his injuries one last time.

* * *

Lewis couldn't deny the spring in his step as he hummed and whistled his way back to James's room, opening the door without much thought, before coming to an abrupt stop once inside.

James was sitting on the opposite side of the hospital bed facing away from him, struggling and cursing his way into shrugging on a shirt.

Robbie swallowed thickly as he saw the neat rows of stitches marring the blondes back, knowing all too well what had caused them as his mind flashed back to James's own bloodied belt he'd seen on the video Kenneth had sent them.

* * *

His clenched jaw and tightened fists quickly relaxed once more however, when the lad's entire body jerked with sudden pain as he twisted his sprained wrist just that bit too much.

Quickly walking over, Robbie placed his hand on the younger man's arm, "Here, let me do it".

James winced but said nothing as he quickly yet gently pulled the shirt over his shoulders, belatedly noticing that the bandages covering his eyes were gone, but the dark glasses he was wearing instead were cheap and hospital-grade, so best not to mention it then.

"Could... Could you... I mean, if it's not too much trouble to..." He trailed off, gesturing with unsteady hands at his shirt which still hung open, and Robbie suddenly realised that he probably wasn't able to close up the buttons himself.

Well.

Impaired vision and two broken fingers would do that to any man.

"'Course lad" He replied, receiving flushed cheeks and a muttered "Thank you" in return.

* * *

As he did up the shirt, Lewis felt his anger returning as he stared at the bandages and stitches that were sure to scar, and the lingering bruises that would still take days to heal.

It very lucky that Zoe Kenneth was dead.

Or he didn't know what he'd have done to her.

* * *

Before long they were packed up and ready to go, and Robbie led his sergeant out of the hospital with gentle hands lingering against his lower back, but not pressing against him, because he knew full well that James hated asking for help and that shirt incident alone had probably met his dependant quota for the week.

* * *

Walking without being able to see was a new experience.

And one that James never wanted to repeat.

His entire body hurt, from the mass of bruising along his right side caused by Kenneth's boot, to the stab wound in his left thigh, and down to the bruised knee cap that caused his entire body to tremble when he put too much of his weight on it.

Which resulted in him needing a walking stick.

_Fuck you, Kenneth._

Hathaway knew Lewis was trying to be careful, by not _directly_ touching him, and he was grateful, completely so...

But at the same time, being blind was still new to him, and he could have _really_ done with some guidance making their way through the busy hospital halls, as loathe as he was to admit.

* * *

Once outside, however, Robbie stopped and put a gentle hand on James's arm, before carefully taking his hand and placing something short and cylindrical in his palm.

"Here" He said cheerfully, "You must be dying for a smoke".

James abruptly stilled, and felt his breathing hitch as he suddenly became overly-conscious of the burns and blisters that littered all his arms, shoulders, collar bones and upper back.

_Fire._

He quickly shook his head and cleared his throat, "Oh, um... No, thank you".

" _No?_ " He could clearly hear the surprise in his governor's voice, "If this is about them reacting with your meds or anything, I've already cleared all that up with the doctor, so you're good to go lad".

_The thought of smoke made him feel sick._

"No, I... I'm giving them up" James admitted honestly.

"What? _You?_ The chain smoker?!" He exclaimed, "But you've smoked cigarettes all your life, lad!"

_Yea._

_But that was before he got tortured with them._

"Seriously" Hathaway repeated, never surer about anything in his life before, "Filthy habit".

"Oh..." Robbie slowly took back the cigarette and the blonde heard him put it back in its pack, "Well, alright then... Won't do you any harm, I suppose".

 _No_ , he thought sardonically, already calming now that the _weapon_ had been put away, _it really won't._

* * *

The Inspector remained oblivious to his internal panic, and cautiously put his hand on his arm again as they restarted walking towards the car park.

"I thought we might drop by your place on the way back to mine" Robbie started, "Pick up a few things. I would have thought of it sooner, but... well... I knew how impatient you'd be to escape that hospital".

He smirked even as his hand tightened on the walking stick at the thought of returning to the scene of his abduction.

"And at least this way, you can pick out your own clothes" his governor continued, "And whatever else you might need. God knows I'd be useless at it... And Laura said she'd drop by tomorrow, to check on things".

James smiled at the thought.

He'd always liked the pathologist, and even more now, as she was the only one since he'd woken up that treated him somewhat the same, and it'd be nice to have someone normal around.

"Now so" Robbie suddenly announced, coming to a stop, "Here we are. Show me that ole' stick of yours and I'll toss it in the back, it'll only be crowding you up front. And you still haven't told me what you want for dinner. I know that Thaw fellow said nothing too heavy, but you must be starving after that bloody hospital food, so I was thinking..."

Yes, James thought, only half-heartedly listening to his boss's rambling, it'd definitely be nice to have someone treat him normally again _._


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?
> 
> Feelings?
> 
> **Anything you'd like to see happen?**
> 
> Rachel :)

**Chapter 16**

James carefully walked around his flat, both grateful and disappointed that Lewis had gone back outside to throw away his gone-off food.

He knew this place like the back of his hand, after all, so it should have been easy to pull open drawers and shove respectable clothing into his duffle-bag.

Except it wasn't.

He frowned, feeling his way along the walls of his bedroom until he bumped into his dresser, pulling open the top drawer and tugging out any shirt he could put his hands on.

Who cared if they didn't match? It wasn't as if he'd be going out to a club or a music festival anytime soon.

But _god_ his body ached, and he found himself wishing that Lewis would hurry up sorting out the trash so he could lead him back to the car where he could sit down again.

Maybe he had left the hospital too early...

* * *

James abruptly paused as he felt something hard and rectangular in his hands, half way through shoving it into his bag.

A book.

The _blind man_ was packing a _book_.

"Everything alright, lad?"

He turned at the sound of Lewis's voice, and slowly held up the offending appendage with his good hand, "I... It was just automatic, you know?"

He could practically hear the older detective swallow thickly, unsure about what to say.

But Robbie, _being_ Robbie, eventually made light of the situation.

"I'm sure that brain of yours can survive a few days without learning anything new" He announced with somewhat-forced cheeriness, "And besides, if you really do get stuck, I'm sure that Soro of yours will help you out".

James couldn't help but smirk, wondering how he ever found a governor as kind as Lewis.

"It's called Siri, sir".

"Of course it is, Hathaway" came the serious response, "I'm just keeping you on your toes lad".

He shook his head and carefully put the book back down on his dresser, hearing his boss hover by the door, "Have you... got everything?"

He started to nod, before abruptly stopping as a thought suddenly stroke him.

Turning in what he hoped was the direction of his beside locker, he carefully trailed a hand along the wall until he reached it, pulling open the top drawer and rooting around in it until his hands finally grasped what he was looking for.

Taking off the hospital-grade glasses, he was careful to keep his back turned to Lewis as he exchanged them with his own, more stylish pair of sunglasses.

And thankfully, the Inspector didn't mention it.

* * *

"I'm afraid the stairs are going to be a bit awkward for a while" Lewis said, helping the younger detective up to the second floor, "But if you take them slow steady I see no reason why you won't be able to manage them by yourself soon enough".

James nodded in way of answering, an embarrassed flush tinting his cheeks.

_God how he hated this._

Stopping just inside the door of the guest bedroom, Lewis placed the duffle-bag on top of the small table next to him, "Why don't you lie down for a bit, and I'll help you unpack after dinner? The doctor said you shouldn't be moving too soon and after today..."

"Messed that one up, huh, sir?"

"Oh give over lad!" He scolded playfully, "Would you rather be forced to wear my oversized shirts and too-short trousers?"

"Well as long as I didn't have to wear your pants-"

"Ah, go away with you!" Lewis gave out, herding him towards the bed, "I'll make a start on dinner. But... do have a rest, yea? You look like death warmed over, lad".

"Thank you, sir".

He rolled his eyes at the blonde's antics, but couldn't help but smile as he made his way back downstairs.

If it were up to him, he'd have stayed with Hathaway, but he knew full well that the lad was embarrassed as it was, and most certainly would not appreciate him over-fussing.

* * *

*BANG-BANG-BANG*

* * *

Lewis frowned and turned to face the front door, quickly walking over to open it.

Laura smiled back at him, and held up two bag of groceries, "I thought you might be running low".

"You're a saint, woman" He replied, gladly taking them from her as they walked back towards the kitchen, placing the plastic bags on the counter.

"I thought you were meant to be at work?"

"I am" She replied, starting to unpack, "But Jean's been a bit lenient lately, for obvious reasons, and said there was no problem with me taking a half day... especially after I informed her you'd be making Hathaway drink sour milk".

"I'm not that bad!"

She flung open the fridge door and stepped to the side, "Robbie. Look in there. Tell me you see something that's not microwaveable or mouldy".

The detective flushed, but remained silent, and she smirked as she stocked the just-as-empty presses.

"... How is he?"

"Could be better".

Laura gave him a dry look, and Lewis sighed, slowly coming to a stop, "He's... different".

"In what way?"

"In every way" He replied honestly, "He's trying to hide it well, but he... _hurts_. Both physically and mentally. And he doesn't want to ask for help either, our James, cause he's a stubborn sod, now, isn't he? But it's... it's taking it's toll on him, Laura".

"As it would with anybody" She prompted gently, "But he'll get through this, Robbie, you know he will. You just need to... give him a few days, to settle in, to adjust to... to everything".

Reaching inside her handbag, she pulled out a book and handed it to him, "Here. I picked this up on the way over, might come in handy".

Lewis cautiously reached out to take it, and stared down at the cover confused.

' _Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence'_ by Judith Herman.

"It's about post traumatic stress disorder" She explained, "How to identify it, how to deal with it, what friends and family can do to help... You should read it".

"You think he's got PTSD?!" He exclaimed, and the pathologist sighed softly, placing a hand on his arm, "Robbie... I'd be more surprised if he _didn't_ have PTSD. Not with what he went through... And it's not as if James is going to tell us himself, now, is it?"

"But you think he's-"

" _Sir?_ "

They both turned to face the hallway.

Laura smiled, "I suppose I should go say hi, then".

And before Lewis could even blink, she had patted his arm and brushed past, coming to a stop at the front door.

* * *

At the top of the stairs, a frowned James stared back down at her.

"It's only me, Hathaway".

He immediately relaxed, and even gave her a small smile, "Dr. Hobson".

"Laura, please, how many times do I have to remind you?"

"Once more, as always... Are you staying for dinner?"

"Can't, I'm afraid" She said, "I've got a hot date with Franco tonight".

"Very nice" He replied teasingly, and Laura's smile softened, "... It's good to see you out of hospital, James. Those white bed sheets did nothing for your figure".

* * *

_His much, much skinnier figure_ , she realised with a pang, noting how his once-skin-tight button up now hung of his boney frame.

* * *

Thankfully, however, Robbie saved the blonde from making any more awkward remarks as he bustled out from the kitchen with a fond look on his face.

"Yea, yea, the sergeant's dishy, we get it already" He teased, and James's head turned to follow the voice, "Why sir, I had no _idea_ that you thought I was so _handsome_ ".

"You know-"

"Probably".

Lewis blinked, and then gave a disbelieving snort, "Yea, you're just a regular George Clooney, aren't you?"

"I apologise, sir, it must be the painkillers".

"Oh, they're clouding your brain to mouth filter, are they?"

"Exactly sir".

"And it's not just you being more sassy than usual?"

Hathaway actually dared to look affronted.

" _Sassy_ , sir? _Me?!_ "

Laura sighed and smirked at the pairs antics, "I'll leave you to it, then. I'll come around later on in the week, okay?"

"Okay" Robbie replied.

"See you then" She smiled, turning to open the door, "Oh, and, try not to kill each other until then, alright?

"Alright" He said, just as James responded with "No promises".

The pathologist rolled her eyes at them fondly, "Just go enjoy your dinner".


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Later that night, after dinner, both men sat in the sitting room, Robbie reading the book Laura had given him, and James half-listening to some brain-dead soap opera, his head thrown back over the top of the couch, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling above him.

Robbie sighed as turned the page and started yet another chapter, this one about establishing safety for the 'patient' and _god_ , he never realised how much he hated using that word for James before.

And as if reading his mind, the blonde's head lolled to the side, sunglasses now facing him.

"... Are you reading?"

He absentmindedly nodded, before silently cursing himself and replying in the affirmative as he once again _painfully_ realised that his awkward sod couldn't see his movements right now.

"What book is it?"

Robbie paused, glanced over at him.

On one hand, he wanted to lie, because telling a so-called post-traumatic stress disorder patient that you're reading a book in order to find out what to do with him... well... that wouldn't exactly improve their friendship.

But on the other hand, he knew full well that James valued honesty above pretty much everything else in life, and when it came to him Robbie was a shit liar anyway so...

"... It's called _'Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence'_ " He finally replied, holding his breath to gauge the younger's reaction, "It's for... it's for PTSD victims".

"... Who wrote it?"

He frowned.

That... wasn't quite the reaction he'd been expecting.

"It was... some Herman guy, I think".

"Judith Herman?"

Robbie glanced at the front cover of the book.

"Oh... so not a guy then".

The blonde gave a small smirk, "Not quite, sir, no".

"How do you know about it?"

"I've read it" James replied easily, head falling back to look up at the ceiling, "It was for a case, a few years back... It's an interesting read".

"It's a long read".

"Then why read it?"

And there it was.

* * *

_The question._

* * *

Robbie swallowed thickly and glanced over at him once more, "Lad... What you went through-"

"You think I've PTSD".

Well that saved _his_ awkward explanation.

"I do. Or, at least... I think you should do".

"... Okay".

The older man frowned, full body turning to face him, "... Okay?"

"Okay" He repeated, "Let's roll with this. Have you started the treatment chapter yet?"

"You mean there's no cure?"

He paused, "... Everyone's different, sir. For some people, PTSD _does_ go away. But for others..."

Robbie cleared his throat painfully and reopened the book, "It says that establishing safety is the first step in the treatment of trauma. Protection from violence and maltreatment by other people, basic needs being met such as medical care, financial security, safe living quarters, adequate food and sleep, legal protection, and a supportive social network".

"All of which I have here, what else?"

He blinked, surprised at the open admission, but continued on as told.

"Resilience comes up a lot. 'The ability to cope and adapt successfully despite significantly threatening situations'... Well I don't know about you lad, but I don't quite feel like getting into another 'threatening situation' anytime soon".

James huffed a quiet laugh, and he felt his heart warm at the sound.

"After that... Another form of resilience is seeking help for mental health problems. Survivors strive to bounce back through help from others. This help can come through family support, native healers, and religious beliefs".

He gave a quirky sort of smirk, "Well you can rule out the first two".

Robbie found himself holding his breath.

"And the last one?"

A pause.

"... I think I gave up on divine intervention sometime during the eighth day".

* * *

And that night, he found out why.

* * *

Robbie leapt to his feet, still half asleep as he heard a sudden yell.

Shaking the drowsiness from his head, he grabbed the baseball bat from behind his bed and flung open his bedroom door.

Silence.

And then-

A muffled shout.

Running down the hall, his heart racing and his blood freezing, he stopped outside James door and quickly yet silently opened it.

* * *

The first thing he saw, was the windows, all still closed and unbroken.

_Not a break in then._

The second thing he saw, was all the bedsheets tossed and twisted, half on the bed and half off it.

_What the hell-?_

And the third and final thing he saw, was James himself, curled up into an impossibly small ball, shivering and sweating and shaking in invisible bonds.

_Fuck._

* * *

Robbie immediately dropped the bat and rushed over, reaching out to place a hand on the boy's shoulder, only to jerk back as he flinched away from his touch.

"James".

The blonde only curled in on himself even further.

He felt his heart clench and panic start to build up.

"James!"

Another string of mindless mutterings, sounding much too like _'no, no, don't, please, no'_ for Robbie's liking.

" _JAMES!_ "

He jerked awake with a start and immediately scrambled away from the loud voice, wide unfocused and _terrified_ blue eyes staring unseeingly at him.

"Hey, it's okay, you're alright, it's just me, James, it's just Robbie" He quickly soothed, "You're okay, it's just me, I'm the only one here, it's just me, me and you, lad".

Hathaway stilled, breathing still too fast to be considered even remotely healthy, and seemed to look directly through him.

"... Sir?"

"It's just me, James".

"I... I thought I was... It felt... I could _hear_ her" He gasped out, bringing his legs up to his chest and wrapping trembling hands tightly around them, "I could... I could hear her and it was like I was back there and this had all been some stupid dream and you weren't coming for me you were leaving me there why would you leave me ther-"

" _James!_ "

He froze.

Robbie let out a heavy breath, feeling completely out of his depth and he now realised why Laura had given him that book.

"Can I touch you?"

"... What?"

"Can I touch you?" He repeated, keeping his voice calm, "Are you okay with me being next to you right now?"

He frowned, confused, before giving a single jerky nod, and almost immediately Robbie collapsed down next to him and wrapped both arms tightly around the terrified blonde.

James tensed at the sudden contact, before relaxing once he realised it was just a hug, and it just crushed the older man to realise that the lad was actually expecting more pain.

"You're alright, you awkward sod" He said quietly, "I've got you now, I did come to save you and I will always, _always_ , come and save you, okay? _Always_ ".

The blonde took a shuddering breath, blinking fiercely into Robbie's shoulder, and carefully nodded, arms cautiously unwinding and coming to wrap around his waist.

When the older man didn't reject the touch, his grip only tightened, and Lewis pulled him even closer as a result, willing away his own tears as he silently vowed to hold the damaged man until his shivering stopped. He could already tell that it was going to be a long night.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**Reviews make me happy!** _
> 
> *hint-hint nudge-nudge*
> 
> Rachel :P
> 
> * * *

**Chapter 18**

Robbie slowly flickered open his eyes and frowned.

The bed was strangely cold...

It took him a few seconds to figure out why.

_James_.

Jerking up, he blindly searched the room for the man who, up until only a few hours previous, had been shivering and trembling in his hold.

Searching the room turned out to be futile, and he quickly stood up and marched towards the door, opening it only to come to an abrupt stop when he heard the vibrating hum of the shower.

Lewis let out a sigh of relief.

Realistically, he knew how improbable it would be for James to run off in the middle of the night, considering how blind and injured he currently was, but there was still that voice of _nagging doubt_ in the back of his mind that said-

He shook his head.

It didn't matter.

What mattered now, was that James was safe and here and Robbie was going to look after him until he finally healed.

Smiling, he took the last few steps down into his own room to get ready for the day. He'd also have to make them something, and something healthy too, per doctor's orders, so he'd need all the time he could get to try his hand at this 'breakfast' thing.

* * *

By the time James came downstairs half an hour later, he'd managed to make some half-decent coffee and not burn the toast, so he considered the meal a success really.

Sitting down at the table, he flipped open the newspaper and took a sip from his cup, giving the outward appearance of casualness all the while keeping an eye on the blonde as he slowly and unsurely made his way over to the table and carefully, cautiously, sat down.

"Mornin' lad".

"... Good morning, sir".

"There's a plate of toast in front of you, and coffee only a few inches to your left".

"... Thank you, sir".

Robbie frowned.

James didn't want to mention what happened last night then...

That was alright, he supposed.

He wasn't sure if he was the best person to be talking to about being tortured to begin with anyway.

Lewis watched the blonde slowly eat, as if thoroughly thinking his actions through before doing them. Which, he supposed, you kind of had to if you found yourself suddenly, however temporarily, blind.

Staring at him for a few minutes, he noticed the faint spattering of blonde hair that ran along his cheeks and jaw.

He smirked, "You're after getting scruffy, sergeant".

James automatically rose a hand to rub at his stubble, "... So I am".

It had been over two weeks since they'd found him, after all, and the hospital had shaved the short beard in order to stitch up the cuts and gashes that marred his face.

Now though, he was in dire need of another one.

James frowned, clearly contemplating just _how_ was going to safely use a razor with the use of his eyes, and Robbie couldn't help but smile at his bewildered expression.

"I can do it, if you like" He offered.

The blonde frowned, "Do...?"

"Shave the stubble" He explained, "After breakfast. It'd be safer than you trying to work with a blade, anyway".

He thought for a minute before slowly nodding, "Okay... Yea, that'd be... that'd be great, thank you".

It took them half an hour to finish breakfast, and Robbie silently put the dishes in the sink as James hovered awkwardly by the kitchen door.

He gave a soft smile at the sight, "Come on, lad, let's go back upstairs".

* * *

Leading the way, he dragged the chair from his room and placed in down in the bathroom, gently pushing James down in it before opening the cabinet above the sink and pulling out the necessary equipment.

Humming lightly as he got everything ready, he finally sat down on the edge of the bath, turning to face the blonde.

He paused.

"... You'll have to take off the glasses, lad".

He immediately tensed.

Robbie sighed, "I know you don't want to, James, but I don't want to get any foam on them".

The younger officer remained silent for another minute before swallowing thickly and slowly reaching up to remove the sunglasses.

Without them, he suddenly looked strangely young.

Unfocused blue eyes avoided his gaze as he began fidgeting with the glasses in his hands, obviously uncomfortable.

Robbie sighed, but carefully began applying the shaving cream to his face.

James frowned, "Is that... Is that a _brush?_ "

He narrowed his eyes at him, "Don't tell me your one of those only-Gillette men".

"Only-Gillette men?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, and his boss nodded, "The traditional brush and razor lasts twice as long as those blades".

"Why-"

"It's a closer shave, James!"

Silence.

The blonde let out an abrupt laugh, and Robbie felt his heart swell with joy at the long-forgotten sound.

* * *

Carefully running the razor over the younger's cheeks, he kept his hand steady to prevent any nick, noticing how the blonde carefully swallowed as he did so.

"... Do you not trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, sir".

"Just not with a blade near your neck?"

James paused, "... It's not that".

"Then what?" He asked, purposefully keeping his voice soft to prevent his sergeant from closing up again.

"I... I've never..." He took a shaky breath, "... I'm depending on you".

"Not to accidently cut you?" He raised an eyebrow at the man.

"... Not to hurt me".

Robbie's hand suddenly stilled.

"... You know I'd never knowingly do that, lad".

"I know" James replied quickly, "I know I can... I know I can depend on you, sir, I just... I'm just not used to depending on anyone in general... Not as much as I am now".

He slowly washed the razor before returning to him again.

"You can always depend on me" Robbie said quietly, "No matter what, you know? About anything, at any time... You can always come to me".

He gave a jerky nod, careful of the blade, just as the older man finished shaving him.

"Well" He said, admiring the clean-shaven jaw, "I dare say Laura would consider you dashing once more, lad".

His sergeant gave a small smile, "Thank you, sir".

"Of course, James" He replied, washing out the brush, "... And I meant what I said, you know. You can trust me... It's not a sign of weakness to ask for help, lad, it's a sign of strength".


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Their repetitive yet unmentioned routine over the next few days became just that.

Repetitive.

And unmentioned.

Every evening, they'd say goodnight to one another, and by 3am Robbie was running into James room to save him from his memories.

Every morning, the Inspector would wake up alone, with his Sergeant either in the shower or downstairs trying to work the toaster.

And yes, while unorthodox and unhealthy their routine was, it worked.

Until one day it didn't.

* * *

Robbie jerked awake as he heard a loud bang, and stumbled from the cold guest room into his own to grab the baseball bat he kept behind the bed. Silently creeping downstairs, he kept it raised, heart raising as he passed the hall table, the clock reading 4:59am.

Stopping in front of the kitchen door, he swallowed thickly and slowly reached forward to push it open.

And promptly dropped the bat.

* * *

James was sitting on the floor, back pressed against the kitchen counter, elbows resting on knees, and long fingers tightly gripping the hair on his bowed over head.

There were smashed shards of ceramic in front of him, sunglasses discarded to the side, and his bare feet were already bleeding.

Robbie felt his heart clench.

"Oh, lad..."

He carefully walked over and crouched down in front of him, mindful of the sharp remains of one of his mugs.

Cautiously reaching out, he gently pried the blonde's hands from his hair, and a tear-streaked face rose up to meet him.

* * *

Robbie had never seen James cry before.

* * *

"I hate this!"

Dazed blue eyes searched desperately, _blindly_ , for his own.

"I hate this _so fucking much!_ "

"I know, lad, I know" He replied, pulling the blonde forwards until his head rested on his chest, "It'll just take some time, alright? You'll be better before you know it. Hell, the bruises are already fading!"

"And the sprained wrist? And broken fingers? And the- the- the fucking burns?!" He snapped, "How long will they take, Lewis?!"

"They'll take as long as they need to, James" He said quietly, "But give it a few more weeks, lad, and they'll all be healed".

"... And my eyesight?"

Robbie held his breath, unsure how to answer and feeling completely out of his depth.

Hathaway gave a broken sob.

"Exactly! You don't know. No one knows! It could be today, tomorrow, next week, or never! And I'm- I'm-"

"You're...?"

"... I'm _tired_ , sir. I'm so, fucking, _tired_ ".

Robbie swallowed down the lump on his throat and ignored the stinging in his eyes.

"I mean, I can't... I can't sleep without _hearing_ her and- and- and then I wake up but it's black, it's still black, and it's like I never left. And when I try to ignore it, to do something- something _normal_ , like make one simple cup of _fucking_ coffee- _I can't_ ".

His boss took a deep breath, knowing that he needed to distract the lad.

He glanced around the kitchen, searching for his mobile.

He knew exactly who to call.

* * *

"And you have my number just in case?"

Laura smiled, "Yes, Robbie, I have your number. The same one I've used for the past twenty years, I presume?"

He gave her a withered glare, but her smile only widened.

"We'll be _fine_ , okay? James is an adult, not some toddler who needs scolding. And I'm a doctor, so even if something unthinkable happens, I'll be able to deal with it. Alright?"

"... Alright" He replied reluctantly, gazing at his sergeant who remained motionless on the couch a few feet away, the same place where Robbie had deposited him after the _incident_ early this morning.

"Hey" Laura said softly, regaining his attention, "We'll be fine, Robbie, I promise... Now go on, god knows you could do with a grocery shop, your kitchen's practically empty!"

"Yea, yea, I'm going" He responded, leaning forwards to grab his keys and kiss her cheek, "Thank you".

"Anytime. Now go!"

* * *

A few hours later, Robbie silently opened the hall door and backed in, arms full of bags.

Dropping his keys on the hall table, he dropped the shopping and glanced into the sitting room, before pausing at the sight in front of him.

Laura was sitting on the couch, James lying down next to her, his head on her lap and her fingers gently carding through his hair.

Robbie couldn't help but smile at the sight, wondering why he ever doubted the pair getting along.

He was about to step into the room when James spoke up.

"Dr. Hobson-"

"Laura".

"... Laura" his sergeant corrected, "Can I... Can I ask you something?"

Robbie frowned, getting the distinct feeling that he was intruding on something.

"Of course" the pathologist replied.

"... Is this what being buried alive feels like?"

Her hands abruptly stilled.

Robbie held his breath.

Laura slowly resumed stroking his hair, "... How do you mean?"

" _This_ " James replied quietly, "Being... Being blind, feeling suffocated, _helpless_ -"

He cut himself off with a ragged breath, and Lewis felt his heart clench painfully.

"... Is that what it felt like?"

Laura hadn't brought up that fateful night since the case had ended. The twins had been arrested or dead, and Robbie hadn't wanted to stir up bad memories by asking her about it afterwards. He didn't pry, she never brought it up, and that had been that.

He's therefore quite surprised when she asked his sergeant is a clear, calm, and almost reminiscent manner.

"It... It was similar, no doubt. I had become blinded, if only for a few minutes, and with my hands tied... I felt helpless. Vulnerable. _Weak_ , even... But then you saved me, and everything was okay again".

It was silent for a minute.

"... I don't think I'm okay".

"And no one's expecting you to be" She replied, voice gentle yet firm, "What you went through, James... Being tossed in that hole has nothing on it. I only spent a few minutes in pain, you spent hours, days, _weeks_ , even... I don't expect you to be okay right now, and neither does Robbie. But we're going to help you to be okay. And we won't stop trying until we succeed".

* * *

Robbie heard James's breath catch, and then there's a choked gasp almost as if he's- he's- he's-

He quickly backed out of the room, grabbing his keys and leaving the house as silently as he had entered.

He didn't know what he'd do if he saw his usually-emotionless-sergeant in tears for the second time that day.

So.

He'd take a walk.

He'd take a walk and calm down and by the time he'd return, he'd be composed and James would be composed and they would fight through this like they always did and that would be that.

That would be that...

Robbie hastily wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

If only things were that easy.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, well, would you look at that, _**I'm not actually dead!**_
> 
> Though the email informing me that I haven't updated in 7 weeks would like to beg differ.
> 
> Anyway, here's the deal, life got in the way, I had a month's worth of finals which will decided if I'm getting into university or not, I went on holidays with my family, I met up with friends that I haven't seen in months, and basically procrastinated the rest of the time away.  
>  __  
>  **But I'm back!**  
>  And hopefully will continue to update every two weeks as usual, so, you know, enjoy.  
>    
> _Rachel :)_  
> 
> 
> * * *

**Chapter 20**

Slowly opening the front door, Lewis silently stepped into his hall, this time being mindful not to make too much noise. Shutting it behind him, he winced at the echoing *click* before turning around to face the living room.

And immediately being pinned in place by Laura's piercing gaze.

"... Hello" He eventually said, and her shoulders relaxed, "Hey".

"Is everything alright?" He asked quietly, and she sighed before suddenly giving him a soft smile, "Next time you want to run away, Robbie, remember to take the shopping bags with you".

He started and looked down, only to find half melted groceries on the floor next to the door, where he had left them over an hour ago.

Turning back, he gave her a sheepish look, "Sorry. I came in at a... at a bad time. I didn't want to disturb you... How's James?"

She straightened up and helped him carry the bags to the kitchen, "He's watching a documentary on the couch... or, well, I say _watching_ -"

"Listening" He corrected, and she nodded, "Yea... He's listening to it. Something about the historical significance of poetry from the 1800's; I couldn't follow it".

Robbie snorted in understanding and started unpacking.

He only remembered one of the reasons he went shopping to begin with when his hands landed on a brown paper bag so unlike any of the others.

Opening it, he pulled out a slip white box that caught Laura's attention.

She frowned, "Is that... Is that a-"

"Shh!" He hissed, "It's for James, and I don't want him to know about it until it's set up, okay?"

"But it must have cost you a fortune!" She exclaimed, taking it from him and he shrugged awkwardly, "Well, he's been... longing for it, I suppose. And since it's not his fault that he can't see anything right now, and I know that he misses it dreadfully, I just thought... you know... it'd help him somewhat".

Her eyes were suspiciously bright.

"Robbie Lewis, you are too good for this world".

He flushed and ducked his head to avoid her gaze, "Yea, yea, whatever. I was actually hoping you could help with it. I know there's an instruction manual and the likes, but you know how bad I am at setting these sort of things up so-"

"I'll take of it, I promise" Laura replied, slipping the box into her handbag, "Is there anything in particular you want on it?"

"... Things he'll like" He eventually replied, "Old stuff. You know what he's into".

She nodded and Robbie couldn't help but kiss her cheek as he brushed past to step into the sitting room.

* * *

There, he found James lying on his side on the couch, long legs stretched out and hanging over the armrest, bandages just about visible around his left ankle and faded bruises marring his stomach where his shirt rode up above his hip.

On the TV screen, there was an old black and white photograph of a middle-aged man with a thick beard.

"I'm back" Robbie said unnecessarily, knowing that the lad had to have heard him talking to Laura, "Are you feeling any better?"

" _T'were better not to breathe or speak, than cry for strength, remaining weak, and seem to find, but still to seek_ " came the sleepy reply and he couldn't help but smile fondly at him, "I'll take that as a yes, then, lad... You hungry?"

A near invisible shake of the head, the light casting strange shadows across the blonde's face, over his cheekbones and jawline and eyelashes and-

And James wasn't wearing his glasses.

Lewis abruptly stilled.

James wasn't wearing his glasses.

He was lying on his side on the couch, facing the TV with his eyes closed, _and_ _he wasn't wearing his glasses._

* * *

He felt a soft grasp on his hand and turned only to find Laura smiling back at him.

She shook her head and raised a finger to her lips, before silently pulling him back into the kitchen.

"Is that... He's not... How did you-"

"Robbie" She snapped softly, and he frowned at her, "... He took off his sunglasses".

"I know. And that was a big thing for him, and there was a lot of fuss made during the process of removing them, so don't bring it up, okay? He'll most likely put them back on once he gets up because he feels vulnerable without them, but... it's an improvement. He's starting to feel safe here. So don't you go barging in and ruin this, alright?"

He quickly nodded without protest at her stern look.

"Now so" She finished, "I'll set it up and return it within the week, we've had dinner and there's leftovers in the fridge for you, and James is about two seconds from falling asleep on your couch. I suggest you do something about that".

Walking her back to the door, he pulled her in for a brief yet meaningful hug, "Thank you, Laura. Really".

"Don't worry about it" She replied, quietly, "You've got enough to worry about with that Sergeant of yours... Take care of him, yea?"

"Of course" He said, gaze drifting back to the open living room door, and she followed it, frowning, "Robbie... I was thinking, today, when James was telling me about... well... perhaps he should see someone".

" _See_ someone?"

"A therapist" She clarified, "I didn't mention it before because he was still trying to settle in and... and I honestly thought that he was handling it. After today, however..."

Lewis swallowed back the lump in his throat, "You want him to go to a shrink?"

"He _needs_ to go to a shrink, and sooner, rather than later".

"He won't agree to it, you know how James is-"

"I know" Laura cut him off, "... But if we just sit back and not do anything, he's only going to get worse. He told me about this morning, about his... his breakdown. And the rings around his eyes suggest he's not sleeping".

"... He's not" Robbie admitted, voice hoarse, and she slowly nodded, "Okay. So. He needs to talk to someone, someone outside of the force, someone unbiased... And I know just the person".

* * *

Half an hour later, Laura had left and James was scheduled to meet with an old college friend of hers, one Dr. Foxly, a psychologist who specialised in post-traumatic-stress-disorder and prisoner-of-war victims, on Monday morning.

The blonde himself didn't know about it yet.

Robbie could tell him later.

* * *

Rubbing a tired hand over his face, he trudged back into the sitting room only to find the documentary credits playing across the TV screen.

"You still awake, lad?"

He got a non-committal hum in return.

Lewis smirked, walking over, "Come on then, you awkward sod, let's get you to bed".

Heaving a half-asleep six-foot-three injured police officer to his feet was no small feat, but the inspector couldn't dim his smile as he dragged the lad up the stairs.

Laura's visit had most certainly helped, as Hathaway seemed noticeably lighter than he did this morning, as if some of the weight on his shoulders had lifted a little.

He dropped the sergeant on top of the bed, still being mindful of his injuries, and carefully manoeuvred the covers on top of him.

James sank back into the pillows, eyes closed and lips slightly parted as he breathed slowly and deeply. A lock of blonde hair had fallen over his forehead, hair longer than Robbie can ever remember it being before, and without thinking, he reached out to brush it back from his forehead.

Sleepy blue eyes slowly flickered open, gaze blurry and unfocused but still managing to look directly at him, and the lad gave a lazy crooked grin, unconsciously leaning into the touch.

Robbie felt his breath catch in his throat and for a moment, all he could do was stare at the beautiful, trusting blonde beneath him.

But then the moment past; his hand fell from the boy's forehead, James' eyes shut once more, and within seconds he had fallen asleep, leaving one very confused yet strangely satisfied and fuzzy-feeling detective inspector standing besides him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Robbie carefully began cutting up the eggs on his plate, "... Did you sleep well last night?"

James briefly glanced up to give him a dry look, painfully reminding the older man of the screams that had racked the house at 3:04am this morning and the long hour spent afterwards trying to calm the blonde back down.

"Right. Stupid question" He replied quietly, "... Here's the thing, lad. This isn't getting much better, is it? Sure, the bruises are fading, and you've only got another two weeks or so before some of those bandages can come off, but... mentally, I mean".

His sergeant carefully swallowed down a bite of toast, "... Does this have to do with your PTSD book, sir?"

"In a way" He admitted, glancing over at the kitchen clock, "It's just gone 9am now... and you have an appointment with a psychologist at half ten".

Silence.

"... What?"

"Dr. Foxy. At half ten. She's meant to be good, according to Laura".

"And according to you?"

"... I'm not a big believer in all that emotional mumbo jumbo to be honest, James... But I do think that it'll help. At least with the bad dreams anyway".

"Sir..." the blonde paused for a moment, and Lewis held his breath, "... Sir, if this is about the dreams or the noise or the _disruptions_ , then I can always find somewhere else to-"

"Damnit man, I'm not asking you to leave!" He exclaimed, and the younger officer hesitated, "... You're not?"

Robbie took a deep breath.

* * *

_Maybe this is why Laura is always prattling on about clear communication..._

* * *

"James... you're not burdening me by staying here. I mean it, lad. If anything, I'm _glad_ to have you here. It beats having an empty home, and I'm not complaining about our impromptu sick leave from work either" He explained, wishing for the millionth time that the man would just _take off_ those _bloody_ _sunglasses_.

"But you have to understand that you're not _healing_ , man!" He continued, "You haven't slept right since we got you out of that hell hole, and any sudden noises or- or- loud bangs make you jump a mile out of your skin... Laura knows this psychologist personally, and she and I both firmly believe that doing this... well... it won't make you any worse, that's for sure".

Hathaway slowly nodded, "And... fees wise?"

"All covered by the department" He reassured, "The only thing you have to do, is to show up".

"Hence why you decided not to tell me until now, half an hour before the appointment" He commented dryly, and Robbie felt his face flush, "Yes, well, I didn't want to _force_ you into going, but..."

"But you didn't want me to have any other options either".

Lewis ducked his head, despite the fact the blonde couldn't see him, "I honestly think we should go, lad. And if nothing else, it'd be good to get you out of the house for a while".

"... Okay. I'll go".

* * *

Walking through the warm building with Robbie's hand firmly on his arm, James felt a bit like a scolded schoolboy being marched to the principal's office.

The car ride there had thankfully been uneventful, though the short walk from the car to the psychologist's office had been nerve-wrecking, and now the blonde was seriously starting to reconsider his decision.

"Here we are, then" Lewis announced quietly, reaching up to knock on the wooden door, "And... If you want to... I don't know... _leave_ at _any_ stage, then just _tell_ me and we can-"

"Ah, you must be James".

He flinched at the sudden voice, head automatically snapping to where the sound had come from, Robbie's arm tightening momentarily around his own, reassuring him.

The blonde swallowed thickly and nodded.

"Dr. Foxly. I... would shake your hand, but-"

"Yes, but you can't _see_ , I've been informed" She interrupted, "Inspector Lewis, if you wouldn't mind leaving us now. James shall be out shortly".

A beat of silence.

"... Lad do you want me to-"

He took a deep breath.

"I'll meet you in the waiting room".

* * *

Walking into an unknown room without any guidance caused a horrible gut feeling that brought back bad memories from the hospital; clinical smells and rough blankets and _too many bloody needles_ -

"The couch is three feet in front of you and one foot to your left".

Hathaway blinked in surprise, but slowly measured out the distance, sitting down gingerely.

He heard Dr. Foxly do the same directly across from him, clicking a pen as she did so.

"You sat down as if you didn't believe the couch was there. You don't trust me. Do you not trust easily James?"

He let out a startled laugh, "Bloody _hell_ , you get right into it now don't you".

"It's my job".

"To hypnotize people into believing everything's just peachy?"

She hummed thoughtfully, "Is that what _you_ think I do? Do you not believe in psychiatry?"

"I believe it's a placebo effect. You want to get better so bad that you convince yourself the therapy is working. Eventually, your own brain starts to believe it".

"And who told you that?"

Silence.

"Inspector Lewis, perhaps?"

Nothing.

"James, you can't-"

"Why do you do that?" He interrupted.

"Do what?"

"Call him Inspector Lewis but call me James. Why do you do that?"

"Would you prefer I called you Sergeant Hathaway?"

The blonde shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"No... Not _necessarily_ ".

"But not many people call you James?"

"... No" He admitted, "It's... different".

"Your Inspector calls you James".

"Only when we're off duty".

"You're friends then, _good_ friends".

"We're... yea".

"Is he... your only friend?"

* * *

_God_ , he wished he could see her expression.

* * *

Hathaway carefully leaned back in his seat, "... I thought this was meant to be about me getting hacked into by a suicidal maniac?"

"It was. But in all honesty James, you had severe underlying mental issues before you even got tortured".

Blunt, honest, and straight out.

 _He liked that_.

The corner of the blonde's mouth twitched, and Dr. Foxly smiled indulgently.

"Mental illnesses are like broken bones, sergeant" She continued, "They need to be correctly identified, treated properly, and given time to heal... If you're expecting a miracle overnight cure, then you're not going to find one here. But _likewise_ , you won't go home after six months just as confused and damaged as before... So, shall we begin?"

He snorted, "What was all that, then? A warm up?"

"An icebreaker, if you will" She replied, "I like to see where I stand with my patients. You still have your sense of humour, courage, and resilience. That's a good foundation to start with".

James took a deep breath, "Okay, so... what now?"

"Now" Dr. Foxly finished, flipping to a new page in her notebook, "Now, we begin".


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, well, okay then, so I'm still alive, just super busy in my first year of college.
> 
> Apologises for the extremely rare and sporadic updates, but I gotta say, I don't think I've ever been this genuinely happy with my life before so... yea. ** _I'll try and fix this whole updating schedule from now on and hopefully have some new fanfics for your guys soon!_**
> 
> Any fandom in particular you'd like to see?
> 
> _Rachel :)_
> 
> * * *

**Chapter 22**

"Now" Dr. Foxly finished, flipping to a new page in her notebook, "Now, we begin".

James nodded, slowly sinking back into the cushions, leaving the walking stick leaning against the couch next to him, "Am I supposed to be lying down for this?"

"If it'd make you feel better".

He grimaced, "It really wouldn't".

"Then don't" She replied simply, "This is about _you_ , sergeant. If there's anything you don't want to say or do, then we won't... within reason, of course".

"Of course".

"Now so, I've been briefed on what... roughly... happened to you and what has been happening since. Inspector Lewis mentioned nightmares on the phone?"

"Did he now?"

"He's only trying to help, James".

"... I know. I know he is. This isn't exactly easy on him either".

There was an audible squeak of springs as Dr. Foxly lent forwards in her chair, "Oh?"

He sighed and ran a tired hand over his face, mindful to keep his glasses in place.

"Well... I'm staying wit him, for the time being. He watches my every move, to make sure I don't do something stupid or burn down the house accidentally. Every night I wake him by... anyway, the nightmares are only part of the problem".

"Do you feel like a problem? Like you're burdening him?"

"It's kind of hard not to given the situation".

"And you don't like that".

"Who would?"

She shrugged, despite his lack of vision, "Some people like being looked after".

"Yes, well, I'm not _people_ ".

"... No, James, I imagine you're not".

* * *

She put her pen to paper, "Tell me about these dreams of yours".

Hathaway scowled, "What do you want to know?"

"Do you suffer from them every night?"

"Yes".

"Describe them for me".

_Fire burning heat cigarettes a flash of dark hair red burning blood fire heat fire fire fire-_

He swallowed thickly and shook his head.

"I'd rather not, to be honest".

She paused, "... Alright then. Let's start with something a bit easier. These nightmares, do they revolve around what actually happened to you? Or what _could_ have happened?"

"... Both" He admitted.

"Do you worry about what would've occurred if Inspector Lewis _didn't_ find you?"

"No".

Dr. Foxley paused, and he could feel her surprised gaze linger on him curiously.

"... No?"

"No" He repeated, honestly, "Not at all. Not once".

"And... why, exactly, is that?"

He frowned.

"Because he's Inspector Lewis".

The pen scribbled furiously across her page.

"You never doubted him? Not for one minute?"

"Never" He replied, "He's... he's just... _Lewis_ ".

"You trust him".

It wasn't a question.

He felt the need to answer anyway.

"Yes".

She smiled.

* * *

Forty minutes after leaving James in the hands of the psychiatrist, Robbie was tearing a hole in the waiting room's carpet. He could feel the receptionist's glare on the back of his head, but ignored her, and continued to pace while chewing on his thumbnail. It was a habit he'd gotten rid of years ago, and yet always seemed to crop up whenever he was worried for his bonny lad.

He stopped and shook his head.

Now where had a though like that come from?

"Inspector Lewis?"

Startled, he spun around only to find the petite Dr. Foxly standing just outside her office, an awkward looking James towering in the doorway behind her.

He quickly walked forwards, "Yes? How was it? What happened? Lad?"

The blonde gave a small smile and Robbie felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't say, sir. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that".

He couldn't help but smiled back, "And we wouldn't want you to go about breaking the law, sergeant, now would we?"

"No sir".

Dr. Foxly nodded towards the waiting area, "Inspector, if I may have a quick word?"

He frowned, "Yea, sure... Give us a few minute, alright James?"

"I'll be here" He replied, slouching against the door frame, taking the weight of his still injured knee, fingers already toying with the top of the walking stick.

* * *

Following the brunette over to a quiet corner, Robbie gave her a puzzled look, "Is there something wrong, doctor?"

She handed him a sheet of paper, "His triggers".

"... His _what?_ "

"Triggers" She replied calmly, "It's early days yet, but based on what he told me, and based on what he very clearly didn't tell me... these are things you should keep away from him at all costs. At least until he starts recovering".

Lewis quickly scanned through the list; _fire, smoke, loud noises, being alo-_

"Being alone?"

She gave him a dry look, "It may come as a surprise to you, inspector, but being blind gives the victim a sudden sense of isolation... Between that, and what James has gone through, leaving him by himself for long periods of time isn't such a great idea right now".

"Right... Anything else I should know?"

Dr. Foxly gave him a mischievous grin, "Well it's like your sergeant said, Lewis, doctor-patient confidentiality and all that".

* * *

Shutting the car door, Robbie let out a heavy breath.

Next to him, James smirked, "It sounds as if you were being psychoanalysed yourself, sir".

"Yes, well, don't get me wrong, that woman is brilliant at what she does... but she can be bloody terrifying when she wants to be".

He leant his head against the cool glass of the window, giving a small smile in the process.

"... I like her".

Lewis held his breath, "Yea?"

"Yea" He replied, "She's... no nonsense. Doesn't bother to sugar coat anything or try and convince me that everything's just peachy... I think I needed that today".

"Well then, lucky for you, we've made another appointment for Wednesday. And for Friday".

James frowned, turning to face him slightly, "Three times a week?"

"Just until she 'figures you out' apparently" He scoffed, "Told her I've been trying to do that for years, and still haven't had any luck".

The blonde let out a startled laugh and it was music to Robbie's ears.

Grinning, he turned back around in his seat and turned on the car's engine.

"Let's go home, James".


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

"How are you feeling James?"

"I'm... okay" He replied.

"Are you?"

Hathaway shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Well... comparatively".

Dr. Foxly pressed on, "Comparatively to what?"

"To others" He explained, and he could sense her frown.

"How do you mean?"

James sighed, "There's plenty of other people in the world who have it worse. Who could use more help".

She paused.

"James... while that may be true, it doesn't make what you went through any less traumatizing. Other people's pain doesn't make yours any less valid. You know that right?"

"I..." the Sergeant stopped, unsure how to continue.

"You-?"

"... I'm not used to depending on people. Not as much as I am now. And it doesn't seem... right, as such, that I'm taking up all of Robbie's time when there are murderers and robbers out there that he could be solving instead".

"So, you believe that Inspector Lewis should be helping others instead of you?"

He gave a weak shrug, "The needs of the many..."

"Outweigh the needs of the few" Dr. Foxly finished quietly, and he nodded.

"Did it ever occur to you, James, that perhaps he's doing it because he _wants_ to? And not because he feels like he _needs_ to?"

"... That _does_ sound like him" He admitted, and she smiled, "Then why don't you believe it?"

"History. Past experience. Internalised self-doubt".

"Have you told him this?"

He scoffed, "Of course not".

"Why not?"

"Because... Because... Be-"

"Because you're afraid of being proven right? Or being proven wrong?"

"... Both. Neither. Either or, it doesn't matter".

"Oh but I think it does" She replied, "I think it matters more than you'll let anybody know".

James leant back in his seat, letting out a heavy breath, "What's the point of all of this?"

"The point, sergeant, is that Lewis cares for you. He cares for you enough to help you, to give you a place to stay while you heal... you need to trust him".

"I do".

"Not enough to let him in".

"Yea, well, I don't like letting anyone in, so it's not personal".

Dr. Foxly sighed, "... How about you try?"

* * *

Lewis looked up as his sergeant remerged from the psychiatrist's office, an odd expression on his face.

"James?" He asked, standing up, "Everything alright?"

"... Yea" He replied, his lips turned down at the corners, grip tightening on his walking stick, "Let's go".

* * *

Robbie kept a close eye on his awkward sod for the rest of the evening. The last three sessions had gone well for the lad, and he seemed to actually be improving. He was more calm, serene, almost at peace with himself. He never told Lewis what happened during his meeting with Dr. Foxly, but he also came out of them thoughtful, almost brooding, yet _content_.

It still didn't stop the nightmares though.

* * *

Robbie woke up to screaming at three in the morning like clockwork. These days, he tended to wake just before hand, his body having set its own personal alarm clock. He was up and into James' room before he could blink, the baseball bat remaining by his bedside, gathering dust.

"James, James, lad, come on, wake up, it's just a dream!"

The blonde twisted and turned on the bed, blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

" _James!_ "

Blue eyes shot open, wide and unfocused, as he scrambled upright, fingers grasping helplessly at white bedsheets.

"Hey, hey there, it's just me, lad, don't worry, it's just me" Lewis quickly said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He couldn't help but smile when James immediately relaxed underneath his touch.

"There now, you're alright, lad, you're _fine_ ".

He shivered and let out an abrupt laugh, voice sleep-rough and hoarse, "Well, I don't know about that".

"No... But you will be" Robbie replied softly, "Just give it some time".

"You say that every night".

"It'll have to come true eventually".

He gave a small smile but remained silent, hands running through blonde hair, agitated.

His inspector sighed, "... Come on then, budge over".

* * *

Reaching out to turn off the light, he pulled up the quilt, leaving the customary two-foot gap between them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked into the darkness, just as he did every other night.

Unlike every other night, however, he didn't get the customary 'no sir'.

There was only silence.

"James?"

Robbie turned to face the man lying next to him, the faint moonlight slipping through the curtains and casting shadows across his face.

"I..."

An audible gulp.

"I was... Kenneth, she... and I-"

"It's alright lad, take your time" Lewis said quietly, heart pounding loudly in his ears.

This was the first time outside of the hospital that Hathaway had even approached the subject of what went on during his captivity.

"... She liked fire" He finally said, before scoffing at his own remark, "Well, _obviously_ , but... it was..."

He took a deep breath, and Robbie belatedly noticed that the blonde's hands were shaking on top of the covers.

"She used a lighter, at first. To... To hurt me. Then she moved onto matches, cause they were different every time, you see. She could use waterproof ones, short ones, long ones, _trick_ ones that never actually burnt out and- and then she used cigarettes".

" _Christ_ , James, I... I didn't know. And to think, after the hospital when I- I put one right in your hands and-"

"-and that wasn't your fault" He interrupted firmly, "You couldn't have known what she used to cause the blisters, the burns. It's _not_ your fault".

"Just as it's not yours, either".

A pause.

"James... You do realise that, yea?"

In the pale silver light, the blonde turned to him, and he could see a smile small grace the lad's aristocratic features, ethereal and unearthly, making Robbie's breath catch.

"... I'm beginning to".

And then, just like that, the moment was over, and Hathaway turned away from him again with a quiet, "Goodnight, sir".

The older man stared at the back of his head, still frozen in place by _something_ that just tugged at his heart and-

"... G'night, lad".

* * *

Yawning, Lewis stretched leisurely, blinking a few times to adjust to the early morning light.

Glancing over at the clock, he saw it was just after 7, earlier than when he'd usually get up.

But that wasn't the only thing that was different.

Hearing movement besides him, Robbie stilled.

The shower wasn't on.

There were no sounds of movement from downstairs.

And he hadn't heard anyone out in the landing either.

Which could only mean...

* * *

Slowly turning around, careful not to jostle the sheets too much, he came face-to-face with a very sleepy and very _soft_ looking Detective Sergeant James Hathaway.

* * *

He found himself immediately frozen in place.

James was never here when he woke in the mornings.

Never.

The lad hated the fact he woke him up every night, Robbie knew that, and as a result, he tended to be quiet and almost embarrassed in the mornings, always always _always_ resulting in him being washed and dressed before Lewis even opened his eyes.

Except for this morning.

Because this morning, he was treated to the rather delightful view of his still asleep sergeant.

* * *

Robbie let his gaze trail along the lad's bare back, down the sensuous curve of his spine, the broad shoulders, well defined and taut from years of rowing, the tantalising dip of his dimpled lower back and-

* * *

He wasn't sure whether to be grateful or disappointed that the sheets were still pulled up to the blonde's waist.

* * *

Frowning at himself, he shook his head, as if to rid himself of the thought.

He didn't see James in _that_ way, of course not, the lad was his sergeant after all, not to mind half his age.

But still, Robbie wondered...

He had always known that Hathaway was attractive, in that unique gangly way of his, all long legs and stretched arms and stooping beneath doorways, you'd have to be blind not to see it. Hell, even Laura Hobson herself referred to him as 'dishy' once or twice, and he knew far better than most that James wasn't even _remotely_ her type.

But for him? For Robert Lewis himself, to see the lad in that light?

The inspector shook his head once more.

No, those thoughts wouldn't do him any good.

Not while his awkward sod was still recovering, anyway.

Glancing down at the blonde, his features softened in his sleep, Robbie couldn't help but smile.

He would always _be_ his awkward sod, no matter what else became of it, and it wouldn't do him well to dwell on it.

So, mind made up, he silently slipped from the bed to get ready for the day, knowing full well that James would most certainly _not_ appreciate waking up and realising that he forgot to slip out before his governor woke.

_He probably just wore himself out from talking last night_ , Lewis decided, _after all, the first time talking about what he went through had to have been emotionally draining for the lad._

* * *

And if Robbie found himself waking up besides the attractive sergeant more and more often after that?

Well.

It wasn't as if James was going to mention it.


End file.
